#i've been annoyed all day. YOU HAVE TO BE NICE TO TEENS!! YOU HAVE TO LET THEM GO OUTSIDE!!

[crimeronan]

there's a place in my neighborhood where a lot of kiddos hang out because there are a couple cheap restaurants & convenience stores open late without any bars/age-restricted venues nearby. it's extremely well-lit and by several busy roads and one of the safest places i've gone when walking at night & the kids have always been extremely chill towards me. so i was completely flummoxed today by a review of a business there that says it's in a """sketchy area""". until justice pointed out that it's definitely BECAUSE the kiddos are there that this random asshat thought the area was sketchy.

.......if you are genuinely afraid of a bunch of sixteen-year-olds minding their own business in an incredibly well-lit parking lot. then like. i truly do not know how to help you.

Git Gud....????

[astrxealis]

head hurts a Bit rn but also no regrets

[tododeku-or-bust]

could you elaborate a bit on that post abt (not) wearing headphones in public/playing your phone out loud? i was under the idea that it was nice to not play stuff aloud bc ppl might have migraines or be sound avoidant, but didn't realize i might just be seeing it from a white perspective, and id love to learn more

All right! First, check this link out: Xochitl does a far more eloquent job of explaining the idea than I would:

I assume that you're specifically honing in on my tag about the "white right of comfort".

Okay, so here's the thing. You're allowed to find public noise annoying. I too, find public TikToks and music annoying! And if you have migraines and such, I can understand how it would be impolite and inconvenient.

But what you're NOT allowed to do, is feel entitled to the public and prioritizing your OWN comfort in it over everyone else to the point of DEMANDING that it conforms to you or it's "bad". Especially when there are things you as an individual can do to prevent this discomfort.

While this gross sense of entitlement is very first world American in nature, it is extremely White American in nature because white Americans actually have the social power to enforce what they believe is the "right" thing based on their own standards.

For many cultures around the world and for many people of color, noise in the community is a GOOD thing. It's part of being a community. I feel safer if the people around me feel safe enough to be outside, to exist and to be, visibly in public.

And you got to understand, while many white people think they're genuinely in the right for believing that being loud on public transit or in the public is worth enforcing as a "bad" thing, people of color have literally already been killed for it. A Black teenager was shot in the face for playing music that a white man didn't like. A Black mentally ill man was murdered in front of EVERYBODY on a train because he was having a mental breakdown. This sort of policing ALREADY HAPPENS to us. Hell, even white gays with any sense of community should be aware of how queer gatherings would be shut down for "noise" (when in reality it was bc it was homophobia).

And now people want me to empathize that YOU'RE oppressed by... noise? On Public Transit?? IN PUBLIC?? Kiss my ass lmao.

I've been on trains where a man was legit growling at me like he wanted me dead. Another i saw Teens high on crack. Another where people beg and people sleep and people listen to music. And you know what I did? I turned my OWN music up and went on my way. Because at the end of the day, the only person I control is me!

And if people were REALLY concerned about others welfare, they would COMMUNICATE. no one is willing to say "hey, I have a headache, do you mind-" bc they're afraid of the rejection, so it's easier to demand "well EVERYONE SHOULD BE LIKE ME". Mhm. Learn to confront your issues. But you're not "unsafe" bc music. You're just annoyed, and you'll get over it.

In summary it really gives me "I can give you something to cry about" energy. Bc y'all swear y'all don't understand the existence of an HOA but here yall are replicating the same Karen behaviors, and y'all don't even realize (or maybe even care) how racist you sound. But why would you lmao, that makes you uncomfortable! And damnit, you have a right to comfort!!

[reticent-writer]

Hiii, can you please write another fic about a teenage reader (16-18) and anybody from hazbin hotel. It can be about anything

HEloooo

Alastor x teen reader platonic

Headcannon by @ghostly-one: "During Alastor's absence, Reader went to the overlord meetings in his place"

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

*knock knock knock*

You heard as you groaned and pushed your head up from your pillow.

"It's me, Y/n." You could hear the radio static through your door, "I have an errand to run and would like for you to join me."

"I'll be down in a minute." You replied as you started to get up.

------

"Oh, boy whats the plan, boss?"

"I like your suits."

"What are the antlers for?"

"Can I touch your ~staff thing~?"

"Are those your ears? or is it your hair? I can't tell."

The egg boiz were annoying the fuck outta you and Alastor. If you knew they would've tagged along, you wouldn't have come even if you were going to an overlord meeting.

"Hark Alastor, Y/n. How fare thee this day." Zestial appeared from nowhere in front of the both of you.

"Good evening Zestial, It's nice to see you again." You greeted with a smile as Alastor quickly threatened the eggs.

"Greetings Zestial." Alastor said as the sinners around you three started to take notice and run.

"Ah, the weather doth become this fine day."

"Indeed. Looks like we might have some acid rain this afternoon."

"If our luck doth hold! I do revel in the screams. How art thou? It has been an age since thou hath graced us with thy presence. Y/n hast been in thy lodging since thee've been gone." Zestial looked to you with a pleased expression as he patted your shoulder before continuing his conversation with Alastor.

"Some hath spun wild tales of you falling into... Holy arms."

"Hahaha Oh, I just took a well-earned sabbatical. Nothing serious. Though it's fun to keep everyone of their toes."

"There too hath been rumour of thy involvement with the princess and her recent flight of fancy. TELL ME, how does thou fall in such folly." Zestial would've creeped you out if you weren't used to his (and Alastor's) over-the-top and old-timey ways.

"That is more me to know. But please do guess. I'd love to know the theories."

"T'would be grander folly by far to assume the workings of your mind, Alastor. Thou hath been naught but an enigma since thy manifested in this realm."

"Coming from someone as ancient as you, I take that as quite the compliment."

The three of you made it the the building where the meeting would be taking place as you and Zestial stepped into the elevator you waiting for Alastor to tell the eggs to wait for him before pressing the button.

-------

You sat in between Alastor and one of Carmilla's daughters.

"Welcome, Hell sovereign overlords. I've invited you all here because you represent the controlling powers of out city. Together you own millions of souls. Souls at risk with the new extermination schedule. We need to discuss what can be done to minimize the impact to our interest." Carmilla said matter-of-factly. "Zestial, so good to see you, my friend."

"Enchanted as always Carmilla." He said as he sipped his tea.

Carmilla was about to look around the room when she spotted Alastor. The face that she made nearly made you laugh.

"Alastor?"

"Yes, I know I've been absent some time. I'm sure you've all been wondering." Alastor spoke like he'd been waiting 7 years just to say that.

"Not really. But welcome back in any case." She dismissed him. You could hear the static abruptly stop and had to bite your lip so you wouldn't laugh.

Once the meeting started you zoned out staring at the wall. To be honest you didn't really care about the meetings you were only there to show your face and now that Alastor is back it gave you less of a reason to care, but interesting things did happen quite often.

Like Velvette wanting a war with the exterminators.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

Zestial translation: It would be much more foolish to think that I understand how your mind works, Alastor. You have always been a mystery to me ever since you came into this world. (just thought it would be nice to add this.)

@ghostly-one

This is choppy and rushed but parade season is starting soon and I have a lot of performances before then too.

[disneyprincemuke]

testing, testing * fem!driver

nobody is more glad to be back in bahrain in her new race car more than the girl racing for andretti

pairings: fernando alonso x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, sebastian vettel x fem!driver, liam lawson x fem!driver

notes: hi surprise before the first race of 2024 and also because I've been writing this piece for like a week now

(series masterlist) | (📂 the sophomore year)

she sighs, tilting her head as she looks down at the car. her hand hovers above the side pod as she grins, “ah, my baby. so pretty.”

liam, standing next to her, has a scowl on his face as he lifts his eyebrow at her. “what?”

“look at the purple on this car,” she whispers in bewilderment as she claps her hand, bouncing on her tiptoes. “she’s so pretty! i have a good feeling about this year, liam!” she grabs his shoulder and shakes him as she throws her head back. “this is our year and i’m going to win a race for andretti.”

“if you don’t stop shaking me, i’ll throw myself in front of your car and you’ll have to find a new teammate.”

she hums. “i have fred — toto will hand him over if i bat my eyelashes and say really nice things and offer free babysitting.”

“hater,” liam mutters, shaking his head. he turns his head back to the car. it is pretty: the purple and the specks of black give it a nice touch. “but it is a pretty nice car. it felt nice right?”

“it did.”

she sighs and leans on the car with her arms wide open. she pushes her cheek against the halo of the car. “i love you, my baby car. we’re gonna win a race together.”

“what’s going on?”

liam turns his head and shrugs. “not sure. might be the lack of ice cream in her bloodstream that’s making her like this.”

which is possible. sebastian and noah (her physical trainer) had banned her from ice cream for testing, afraid that she would simply camp out in the bathroom in the short couple of hours she has in the car today.

“i drank pepsi, it’s okay,” she giggles, scrunching her nose. she perks up with a giddy smile and looks around with her lips pursed. “where is oscar? he owes me timtams.”

“no chocolate either,” sebastian says sternly, furrowing his eyebrows at the young girl.

“what? why not?”

“because you’ll kill yourself when you’re in the car for too long,” noah sighs with the shake of his head. “eat fruits like normal people.”

“normal…” liam furrows his eyebrows as he turns to the slightly older man. “who eats fruits for fun?”

“they’re good for you.”

“they’re not all good. they could give you diabetes.”

“fruits can give you diabetes?” she yelps, shoving liam back a couple of steps with wide eyes. “i knew there’s a reason i resented fruits! they’re so unhealthy!”

“actually it’s because you didn’t have an ounce of internet safety growing up. you were traumatised by annoying orange,” liam mutters. only then he notices that it’s something he was sworn to secrecy by logan. he glances at the girl, breathing heavily as her eye twitches. “or so i assume.”

noah turns to her. “you’re scared of annoying orange?”

prepared for the girl to unleash some sort of violence on him, liam sucks in a deep breath as he closes his eyes to brace for impact. much to his surprise, she just nods and walks past him to walk to where her helmet is.

“yeah. and it’s all blythe watched growing up. so it was kinda,” she shrugs, “detrimental to my brain development.”

liam raises his eyebrow. “that’s the only thing that held back your development?”

“that and meeting you in my early teen years for sure altered my brain chemistry.”

“wow.”

“i know. kinda sucks, doesn’t it?”

pre-season testing has always been one of the days of the year that she’s most excited for. going out there and showing everybody she can do — it’s always fun to shut a lot of people up. and it’s the one time that she can drive a race car without so much pressure on her shoulders.

it’s lots of fun, really. and after not seeing a couple people over the break, it’s fun to be back in the paddocks to mess around with them.

she rests the helmet above her head and turns to liam with a grin. “if i beat you in testing, you owe me 5 pints of rocky road.”

“rocky–”

liam punches her shoulder gently. “you’re on. and if i beat you, you do my laundry for a week.”

“yeah– wait, how is that fair? boy laundry is gross!”

“you live with a boy!”

“i don’t do his laundry! logan’s a grown ass man!”

“enough bickering,” sebastian sighs, putting a hand behind her back. his other hand lands on the top of her helmet and slowly pushes hit down to help her put it on. he understands her excitement: she’s missed racing so much that she had resorted to bringing her brother karting over the winter break. “get in the car and show everyone what you can do.”

she squeals. “and beat liam and get my ice cream.”

“yeah, that too.”

she drives into the pitlane, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she looks for the set of andretti garages. she sighs as she comes to a stop, feeling the car be lifted as they put her back into the garage for a little more testing.

“aw, hey! you’re back,” liam grins, knocking on the top of her helmet. she swats his hands away from her head as she grips on the halo to pull herself out of the car. “how was it?”

“i was not feeling great. but i reckon it’s just me,” she shrugs, voice muffled by the layers over her mouth. “i’m telling you — i need my ice cream. i can handle it without having to run to the bathroom before a race!”

liam scrunches his nose. “you’re not fooling anyone with that.”

“i swear, mate,” she throws her head back in frustration, “it was just the rookie vibes last year. i’m better this year.”

he hums, turning around to readjust the headphones on his head. “i don’t reckon sebastian and noah would believe you. but alright.”

“believe me!”

“believe what?”

“what are you doing here?” she giggles, covering her mouth as she hunches over. “you got my ice cream?”

mick sighs heavily, shoulders slumping when their eyes meet. he presses his lips together and shakes his head and her smile drops. “noah checked me for illegal items on the way in.”

“that asshole!” she shrieks, turning to the large doors where her trainer stands. “you don’t understand — i need my ice cream! i’m dying.”

“i know,” mick turns to the pit wall where sebastian sits, swinging his legs as he eats the ice cream reserved specifically for the girl. “i got caught. i’m sorry.”

she clenches her jaw and turns away from sebastian grinning smugly as her from across the pitlane. she hums. “i will find a way to get myself ice cream. just you wait.”

“i don’t reckon that’s a good idea mate,” liam mutters. “you’ve still got the afternoon session for to drive. maybe you should sit this one out.”

she wiggles her finger in the air as she walks towards the backdoor of her garage. “no can do. i’m sure oscar’s got some extra ice cream from me.”

“no, you cannot race one another during testing.”

“why not? not even a little bit?” max shrugs, frowning as he throws his hands into the air. “just one lap.”

the girl, standing next to him, nods with a wide smile. “please? we won’t crash into one another, i promise.”

“you’re not supposed to crash into one another even in a normal race!” sebastian points out, scratching his head in frustration.

it is one thing to compare lap times when you’re pushing everything out of your car, but to go out on the track and race side by side is another thing. there is simply too much at stake, especially for a time like pre-season testing where everything is in shambles.

“okay, fine!” she huffs, throwing her head back before turning to max. she drops her head. “might i suggest a scooter race around the paddocks before the afternoon session today? after lunch?”

sebastian clears his throat, prompting both of them to turn their heads to look at him before max could muster an answer. “i thought i told you that you can’t use your stupid scooter without adult supervision?”

she looks at him in confusion. “i was talking about the scooter fernando got me.”

“aw, he got you a scooter?” max whines, frowning. “i wanted one — kelly wouldn’t let me get one.”

“seriously?” she giggles. “logan, oscar and i got one along. mine’s the cutest, i’d reckon. you might be able to use oscar’s!”

sebastian just sighs. he waves them off and turns on his heel and starts to walk the other day. “get yourselves injured, i don’t even care.”

“you’re… asking me to join you?”

“what does it sound like?”

a sheepish giggle passes the man’s lips as he covers his mouth and takes a step back. “i feel so honoured. i’m being included in your activities?”

liam furrows his eyebrows. “what’s that supposed to mean? it’s just a scooter ride around the track before the new session. it’s not a big deal.”

“it’s literally a scooter race out on the race track,” she whispers, turning away from liam to look at fernando in confusion. “literally kilometres on a fucking scooter meant for kids.”

“and we somehow convinced the marketing team to film us doing it for content,” logan beams, puffing his chest with his hands on his hips.

they went on a limb when the girl texted their groupchat: something about helping her convince the f1 marketing team to let them book the track for 40 minutes so they could race on it without getting into trouble.

she walked in with logan, oscar and liam trailing behind her with a half thought out speech, a sweet smile and a dream. she barely even made it halfway through the speech she spent so long thinking over while she had her lunch when they agreed without another thought.

and being that it was fernando’s idea to get them all matching scooters (actually a gift to liam for his rookie year, but the girl had convinced him to get her one too), they invited him along as well.

and max, because sebastian had admitted that fernando got him one as well. he had been too ashamed to admit it, muttering about how borderline embarrassing it is.

“how did you do that? they never agree to my ideas.”

“how can you resist a face like this?” liam asks.

liam puts a hand under her face, logan squeezes her cheeks together and oscar pushes her nose up. she poses with her hand in a peace sign.

“i’d feel threatened if i were the f1 marketing team.”

“hey, take that back!” she cries. she swats the hands from her face and grins. “are you joining us or not?”

fernando shrugs. “sure, why not.”

there’s a screech that breaks the barrier by the pitlane followed by the clanging of something. everyone pipes down, heads turning and looking around in curiousity to find the source of the scream.

“there’s no way this happened to me again!”

along the track’s grid is the girl sitting on the ground, hands up in the air with her scooter not too far from her. she’s surrounded by her friends first before the marketing crew finally takes steps forward to check on her.

“if i were you, i’d take this as a sign to just stick with a car,” oscar laughs, clutching his stomach.

“yeah, mate,” logan wipes tears from his eyes, “there’s no way you’re two for two falling down and hurting yourself on a scooter.”

her teammate, however, towers over her with hands over his hips. “i swear you might be stupid. how did you fall down again on a scooter that’s meant for kids?”

she looks up, genuine tears in her eyes as the red liquid seeps out of her palms. “you guys are so mean!”

fernando looks down at her. “are you okay?”

“no!” she holds her hands up to fernando to show him where she is bleeding. “it hurts!”

“okay, mija,” fernando grins, nodding empathetically. he puts a hand on her elbow and the other around her back to help her up. “let’s get you some first aid.”

max appears, actually being the only one that finished the race, still riding on a scooter. he balances on it and tilts his head, “really? again?”

her head snaps back around to max, taking a threatening step forward with an arm wound back to hit him. “max emilian verstappen!”

“not the government name,” he scoffs, furrowing his eyebrows. “this is why you fell down.”

“bitch,” she mutters as fernando whisks her away. “there’s no trophy so it doesn’t even count.”

“you’re just mad that max beat you,” liam snorts, rolling his eyes, “and fernando… and logan… and oscar…”

“you didn’t beat me though, so i’m fine with that.”

“oh, my god?”

“what happened?”

the two germans walk into the garage to her sitting on a bench with her head dropped, being bandaged by noah.

“she fell down,” noah answers immediately, shaking his head as he spares her one more disappointed stare. “can you believe it?”

“have you considered just… not racing?” mick asks, tilting his head. “on a scooter, i mean.”

she shakes her head. “i have to be the best at everything.”

“wow,” sebastian blinks, “well, are you okay?” he looks over liam’s shoulder and rolls his eyes as well. “seriously? the same spot as before?”

“hey, i didn’t take your stupid smart glasses — just mind your own business!” she slouches and lets out a heavy sigh. “it wasn’t even my fault this time.”

liam perks up. “i didn’t do shit to you, mate! you’re just stupid!”

“you were screaming at me approaching me from behind!”

“i was not! i was simply singing the mission impossible theme song!”

“same thing! it was intimidation — you should have been disqualified for that.”

“sore loser!”

“you know what this means?” she hums, batting her eyelashes at sebastian with a small grin. this is her only chance into coaxing herself to completion. “ice–“

before she can finish her plea, her race engineer is already walking away from her with a hand held up in her direction. “not a chance.”

“okay.”

“good results, mate!” liam screams, his claps filling the garage as she climbs out of her car. “you’re in the top 10!”

she turns her head towards him, the way her shoulders and back straighten an easy telltale of how she feels. she pushes her visor up, “really?” she sees the smug grin on his face, ripping her gloves off and throwing it at him. “there’s only 10 of us testing today!”

“you believed me, though.”

“i literally just drove several laps out!” she hits him. “you’re so annoying — i wish mick was my teammate.”

liam shakes his head as she takes her helmet off. “you don’t mean that.”

“i actually do. very much,” she sighs. she puts her helmet into the seat of her car and turns to liam, only then noticing that liam is now holding something out to her. “oh!”

“yeah, i got you ice cream!” liam beams proudly. “they didn’t have rocky road, but… i figured it’s still chocolate ice cream and you wouldn’t–“

he’s cut off by the girl throwing herself at him, wrapping her arms around him beforw pulling away to take the small cup into her hands. “aw, liam! thank you!”

“we’re going to have so much fun this year.”

“bold of you to assume i won’t run you off track like i did in f2.”

“i’m prepared to hit you back — you’re an adult now.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @inejismywife @love4lando

[noraigo]

some days ago, i started watching we are the series, since a friend of mine tried to convince me for a long time to tune in. we are isn’t exactly the type of series i would watch. not disregarding its charm, i must admit it’s even endearing, i’m just more keen on the angsty, adult queer love. however, there’s a certain couple that’s been running nonstop in my mind ever since i started the series and, of course, it’s no other than tan and fang.

tan is certainly unique as a whole, because if anything — i think it’s the first time i see such a loud but not annoying character, and that’s hard to portray. his excitement seems genuine all the time and i feel his happiness is shared through the screen. that doesn’t brush off his emotional intelligence and i think people underestimate this trait of his: just because he seems silly and party-loving doesn’t mean that he is insensible. he can be serious if it’s needed and he cares for the people around him. it’s safe to say that cheerful characters are often overlooked because of it and, as viewers, we shouldn’t take it for granted.

fang, on the other side, is the total opposite of him, yet it doesn’t make him less interesting. his background is implied to be unstable, which made both phum and fang be more closed off emotionally speaking. even so, fang is trying his best to be on the same page as tan, though tan adores him when he’s serene and quiet. most of the time, characters like fang are misunderstood and it’s a little saddening. he is kind and tough, but it’s not hard to love him. something tan understood from the very beginning.

their dynamics keep me pushing watching the series. now that fang has been softening more and more, their scenes became even lovelier to watch, if that was ever possible; their kisses, clear eyes of infatuation, playful banters and words of love show it. i’m not a fan of sex scenes, they underwhelm me a little (might be the acespec in me), but tanfang’s was just perfect. not too much, not too little. just enough to show that these two desire each other. possibly, it could be not their first time as a couple, which is refreshing and new in thai queer shows as far as i've seen. (aouboom definitely enjoyed kissing and touching each other a little too much but, didn't the same happen with hidden agenda? just saying.)

people like them could be too much for others, but for each other, they are an absolute match. fang knows tan loves him unconditionally and so does tan. tan tries to push him for the better without overstepping his boundaries whilst fang apologizes if his behavior might be irrational when he’s angry and accidentally lashes out on tan. that’s actual respect and patience in a relationship. none of them are trying to change the other to fit their own personality, they have already changed once they realized they were into each other back then when they were problematic teens. ain’t that sweet?

just look at these sweet two blorbos, just in their own world, happy and in love.

on another note, though, i’ve gotten to know aouboom since viceversa era and i could already smell the cute chemistry between both, yet it’s very sad to know they suffer from secondary couple syndrome. how many series have they starred in as a second or even third couple? very unfair, gmmtv, you better give them a nice series, regardless of its length. as long as they don’t keep acting in college settings, i would give my entire scholarship for a coffee shop or any other ordinary plot. they are just THAT good and i will never get tired of their chemistry. they have a kind of spark i see very rarely and if gmm doesn’t give them a shot, they’re losing a potential gem.

please, give us more tanfang content and especially, an aouboom series. thank you very much.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hi, I hope you are having an amazing day (js as amazing as you), and have eaten, slept, and drank water. You are beautiful, and a very and I mean VERY kind person. Make sure to take care of yourself, I'll probably annoy you with how often I say but I do care, make sure your in good health before going to to our entertainment I would like to share my thoughts, this one I js thunk,

so I've been thinking a lot about that one drabble you did with Dokusha being Obanai's best friend. Well if that were in the Kimetsu Academy! Au, would Dokusha be like a fellow teacher or a friend (outside of work). But I feel like Dokusha still would help him with courting Mitsuri. But how close would they be? And I was thinking about, how would Kimetsu Academy au! Obanai react to sharing Dokusha as his favorite student with another teacher like Giyuu or someone. Anyways, srry for popping up again in your inbox, I js have a lot of thoughts. Anyways have a good day! Eat, sleep (you update a lot, ik), and take care of yourself, you are amazing, and I hope you wake up feeling like you could take the world on (bc you sure as hell do). Drink water, and if you do go out, be safe (ik I sound like a mother lol).

Bye!!! ILY!!!

-S.P.

Hmmm. This is pretty simple, I like the idea and yes. You do sound like a mother but that’s okay! It’s just being a good caring person and I don’t mind. But anyway, Jealous father figure teacher Obanai be like~!

Iguro Obanai- Back Off

Obanai is so jealous… he is jealous and he can barely keep himself calm at this rate. He’s a fully grown man(with the height of a child). He shouldn’t be jealous over a student bonding with another teacher, even if the student is his absolute favourite. He can’t help but feel jealous over the idea of you liking another teacher as much as you like him

Obanai’s favourite easily is you, a simple teen but you’re so sweet, caring and you don’t bother him like all his other students do. You follow his orders and you always do your best. You treat him with respect and for that, he treats you with respect as well

Obanai doesn’t want to be possessive or creepy over you. You’re just a child after all but he can’t help but feel so sour and distasteful over the fact you’re bonding well with Giyuu Tomioka, the strict P.E Teacher. You’re so kind that even Giyuu can’t help but feel comfortable with you and talk to you when you arrive to his class

Obanai would never ever personally pry you away from the teachers you happen to like and befriend very well but he hopes he is never replaced by another teacher. He views you like a surrogate child of his own and he actually wants you to view him as your favourite

Obanai, also, won’t try sabotage or ruin your relationships with other teachers. He may really like you but he isn’t going to do anything awful. You still need other friends but he just wants to be the teacher you like the most. He likes you the most of all other students in this Academy after all

Obanai will force himself to willingly share you around with his fellow teachers since your happiness matters a lot to him. If you want to do tutoring with somebody else, other than him, that’s fine. Just do come back to him at one point, please…

Obanai is kinda like a clingy protective and jealous papa to you. He and his beloved Kaburamaru are always happy to see you come into their classroom and sometimes, the two will give you cute nice candy gifts

Obanai just grits his teeth and bares through the jealousy over you bonding with teachers, especially with Giyuu. At least, you’re not miserable and you have even more skills and teachings being taught by other teachers. He is proud and thankful over that fact, drowning out his jealousy

“Dokusha. Please come to my classroom at this moment, say goodbye to Tomioka-sensei and follow. We must talk about your latest test”

[fake-sturniolos]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬

pt2

SYNOPSIS:  a hopeless romantic teen attempts to secure a happily-ever-after moment with her forever crush, but finds herself reluctantly drawn to the boy next door.

WARNING: none!

word count: 1,722

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴋ 'ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇꜱ'

I've wanted love since I was old enough to spell the word 'love', probably because of my mom's obsession with romcoms. I would watch romcoms with my mom all the time; it was our thing. We would get snacks, snuggle up on the couch, and binge all of her favorites. When she passed away, what I inherited was the knowledge that love is perpetually present, always a potentiality, and eternally worthwhile.

I walked out of my house in a relatively good mood, only to be met with the sight of the person who annoys me most in this world, Matt Sturniolo. He was standing in front of my car with a grin on his face. Well, that couldn’t be good. I shut the door behind me and pretty much ran at him. “What are you doing near my car.”

Matt just shrugged, giving me a smirk.

"What's in your hand?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, putting his hand behind his back.

i rolling my eyes at him. "What did you do to my car?"

“technically i didn't do anything to your car”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He gave me a grin before saying, "Well, this has been fun, but I've gotta run.”

"Matt—" I began, but he turned around and walked back to his house as if our conversation hadn't just happened. I sighed and turned back to my car to see what he could have done to it.

Matt and I have an ongoing battle over who gets the parking spot, though he typically wins because he cheats. It's become a game of wits between us, each of us trying to outsmart the other in our quest for the coveted spot. But no matter how hard I try, it seems like Matt always has the upper hand.

I sighed and got into my car, only to find a parking ticket taped to the middle my windshield. Great.

I walked into school with 'Florida Kilos' playing in my headphones. I entered my first-period class and took the only available seat next to Lacy Johnson. Lacy is a high-class bitch, but there's no denying that she's gorgeous. We both grew up in the same neighborhood and hung out with the same kids. And every time we were together, she would find some way to call me weird or insult me in any way possible. It was like she had a radar for my insecurities and took pleasure in poking at them

“Nice dress, y/n," Lacy said, looking over at me.

I gave her a fake smile. "Thanks."

I pulled my phone out of my bag to see a text from my best friend, Audrina.

From Audrina:

You will not believe what I found out

To Audrina:

Spill

From Audrina:

You're not gonna want to be in class when I tell you, so meet me after

The bell rang, and I rushed out of class to our lockers. Audrina showed up right as I did.

"Okay, before I tell you, promise me you won’t freak out," she said.

"I can’t promise anything."

Before she could say anything, I glanced behind her and saw no one other than Tristan Parker walking in my direction. Audrina noticed the look on my face and turned around.

"Well, there it is," she said.

Tristan Parker was my childhood crush. He lived in my neighborhood and hung out with me and the few other kids on our block (Me, Matt, Audrina, Lacy, and a few other kids.) Till one day he moved to South Carolina. I never thought I would see him again but here he is.

“Y/N?” Tristan's voice jolted me out of my daydream, his gentle tone drawing me back to reality.

“Tristan?” I responded, my lips curling into a smile as I met his gaze.

In a heartbeat, he closed the distance between us, enveloping me in a warm embrace that felt like home. I felt my stomach flip. Oh my God.

All of a sudden, I feel someone bump into me, and I turn around to see Matt. Of course, if anyone was going to ruin this moment, it would be him.

“Matt!” I exclaimed, turning to face him. “You should really watch where you're going,” I said with a fake smile.

"‘Yeah, so sorry.” he said sarcastically, then turned to look at Tristan.

“Tristan!” he exclaimed, reaching out to dab him up.

“You were right about the biology teacher.” Tristan said.

“Yeah, she's a real bitch.” Matt grinned.

I watched as Tristan laughed. I tried to contain my smile, but it was useless.

“Relax, you're drooling all over yourself” Audrina whispered to me. I had pretty much forgotten she was standing there.

“You know Michael White, right?” Matt asked Tristan.

“Of course.”

“Well, he's having a party tonight. Would you be down to go?”

“Yeah, sounds good” Tristan replied.

“Alright, cool. I'll text you the details. But I gotta go. If I'm late one more time, I'm cooked.” he said, then turned and walked the other direction.

Tristan turned his attention back to me “I've gotta go too” he said “But we'll catch up later?”

I nodded eagerly, feeling a sense of anticipation bubbling within me. “Definitely” I replied, my heart skipping a beat as he flashed me a brief but warm smile before walking off.

Audrina sighed. “Don’t get too excited. I heard he's been talking to Lacy Johnson.”

I felt like someone had just punched me in the face. Why her? I didn’t get it. I couldn’t comprehend how someone like Lacy, who seemed to effortlessly have everything handed to her, could possibly be vying for the attention of the same guy I wanted. I couldn’t bear the idea of seeing the perfect guy for me end up with someone like her.

"I mean, they aren't official. I still have a shot,” I said, trying to reassure myself.

“Please don’t be that girl,” she said, giving me a pleading look.

Her words struck a chord within me, a reminder of the line I was treading. Did I really want to be that girl, the one who clung onto hope despite the odds?

I swallowed hard, the weight of my indecision heavy in my chest. "I won’t." I promised, though the words felt hollow even to my own ears.

Matt had beaten me to the parking spot, leaving me no choice but to park around the block and trek home through the pouring rain. As I reached my doorstep, a sudden realization struck me. If I could persuade Matt to take me to the party, it could be my ticket to getting closer to Tristan. I turned on my heel and headed next door, where I knocked on Matt's door. After a few moments, he opened it slightly, a bemused grin on his face.

“Well, well, well,” he chuckled, taking in my drenched appearance. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

I rolled my eyes, feeling the chill of the rain lingering on my skin. “I need to talk to you.”

His eyebrows raised in mock suspicion. “Why? Planning to exact your revenge?”

“Matt, just let me in,” I pleaded, my patience wearing thin.

From behind him, I heard his mother's voice. “Matt, stop teasing and let the poor girl in.”

“I think she's here to assassinate me,” Matt joked

“Hi, Mary Lou.” I said smiling at her.

“Hello, y/n. Come inside before you catch a cold,” she said kindly, ushering me into the warmth of their home.

“Thanks, Mary Lou,” I said gratefully

Mary Lou smiled warmly. “Of course, dear. Let me grab you a towel to dry off,” she said before disappearing into another room.

Left alone with Matt, I couldn't help but feel a pang of nervousness creeping over me. What if he refused to help me? What if my plan to get to the party and see Tristan up close fell apart before it even began?

Mary Lou returned with a fluffy towel, and with a grateful smile, I accepted it, quickly drying myself off as best as I could. Matt gestured for me to follow him, we made our way to the cozy living room, where the soft glow of lamps cast a warm, inviting ambiance.

As we settled onto the comfortable couch, I couldn't shake the nervous flutter in my stomach. Matt leaned back, his expression curious yet attentive. “So, spill it,” he prompted, his eyes fixed on mine.

“okay so I need your help.” I said meeting his gaze

he smiled “and why would I help you?”

“i have an offer for you.” I said clearing my throat “you will get full access to the parking spot for the duration of our deal.”

he looked back at me with a shocked expression “your giving me THE parking spot?”

I sat back and nodded.

“Deal.”

“What? You don't even know what I want you to do yet.”

“Whatever it takes, I'll do it.”

“Okay, but you have to swear that you won’t tell anyone or give up halfway. If you do, the deal is off.”

“I swear. Now, tell me.”

I looked at something other than his face. “I want to get close with Tristan.”

“And you want me to help with that how?”

“Well, since he's going to the party, I was hoping you could take me with you, so I could talk to him.”

He nodded. “So you want to get with Tristan, and you want me to take you with me to the party so you can get him to like you?” he said, scanning my face.

“Pretty much.”

“Isn’t he interested in Lacy?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry about that.”

He smiled. “How scandalous of you, Buxbaum.”

“Shut up.” I said smiling back "Alright, so here's the plan," leaning in closer to Matt. "You'll invite me to the party as your plus one, and once we're there, you'll introduce me to Tristan. From there, I'll work my magic."

Matt raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Your magic, huh? Should I be worried?"

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help but laugh. "Just trust me, okay? I'll handle it."

After exchanging numbers to discuss Tristan after, we agreed that he would pick me up at 7.

"Alright, you've got yourself a deal."

ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇᴅ ɪᴛ! ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ʟᴀᴜɴᴀ

[training4theapocalypse]

a fine wee lass, a bonnie wee lass ch.1

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Fem Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 2k

Warnings / Tags: Smut, infidelity, size difference, references to previous underage romance (when they were both teens).

Summary: You're the bridesmaid at your brother’s wedding and his best man, John MacTavish is back in town. You just hope he doesn't remember when you last saw him, when you tried with all your might to stop him from joining the army.

A/N: I've not played COD since like 2012 but I keep seeing clips of Soap on TikTok and my wee Scottish heart just fancies the pants off him. This is inspired by a Scottish folk song called 'Bonnie Wee Jeannie McCall'. The dialogue is written in Scots - I hope you can follow along.

ALSO I just found out about @glitterypirateduck’s challenge by a happy accident the day after I wrote this and this fits nicely into:

Prompt 28: They don't need to know

Masterlist (there’s no other COD stuff here sorry)

Chapter 1: The first night I met her she was awfy, awfy shy

You pull your shawl around you as you stand outside the old castle. Rain lashes down across the sprawling Falkirk countryside while revellers laugh from the wedding inside. The music hasn’t started yet - you think that you’re safe to have a breather before you need to go inside for the first dance. 

You stand as close to the wall as you can, taking cover from the rain. Your pink satin shoes are getting soaked. Not that it matters. The shoes your brother’s new wife chose for her bridesmaids are so ugly it’s unlikely you’d have worn them again anyway. But she’ll be fuming when she sees the state of them.

The door to the castle opens behind you and you move over, dodging a puddle to let the newcomer seek the shelter of the castle wall too.

“Awryt, darlin?” asks a voice and you look up from the puddle at your feet to see John MacTavish, your brother’s best man, pulling out a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “I didnae think you smoked.”

“I don’t,” you say, putting your vape to your lips and raising your eyebrows once.

He pulls a sour face. “Them? They’re fulla chemicals and like, mercury, and that.”

“Oh aye? What’s in these? Vitamins?” you ask, flicking the pack of cigarettes in his hand with a forefinger. “You didnae smoke afore joinin’ the army.”

“Aye, well, I was sixteen when you last saw me. And you were, whit, twelve?”

“Fifteen, John.”

There’s only a year between you and your big brother, Tam. But the way he and John treated you, you’d have thought there was a decade between you. Acting like you were an annoying wee tag-along. You just wanted to be included from time to time.

But that was ten years ago. Last time you saw John, he was just a boy, and you, just a lass. But now he’s older, with a scar on his chin that’s only highlighted by his coarse, dark stubble. The scar cuts across the hair there like white lightning. He’s taller, and broader than when you last saw him and his hair is shaved much shorter and neater than the teenage John you remember.

“Aw, aye. I mind now. You and your pals had wangled your way intae the sixth-year leavers’ gaff. As usual.”

“Did I? Any excuse for a drink back then, I s’pose.”

“Aye, but I remember ‘cause I wis leavin’ in a few days for the army. And you were -” He cuts himself off suddenly.

“I was whit?” a smile cracks across your face, waiting to hear his description of how you looked that night. Beautiful? Stunning? Mesmerising? You see yourself as you had been - your hair perfectly straightened, your Oh Polly bandage dress hugging your form in all the right places. In your memory, you were the embodiment of a siren. You had dolled up that night to impress the older boys. Or, if you were honest, one particular older boy.

“Well, I mean,” he says putting a cigarette between his lips and flicking his lighter. The orange glow briefly illuminates his face, casting shadows that seem to momentarily harden his features, making you remember he’s no longer a boy of sixteen but a man of twenty-six. “You were absolutely gantin’ for it.”

Your mouth falls open and you hit his arm. 

Mortifying. 

“Whit? Fae you? Aye, right !” you say, sarcastically but your face flushes bright red, immediately giving you away. You might have been drunk but John MacTavish rejecting your drunken advances as a teenager was probably the defining moment of your formative years. 

As your words, brushing off his teasing, hang in the air, the jolt of embarrassment reminds you of a different party.

On that fateful night, ten years ago, the music was much louder. The floor was littered with empty cans and bottles and you’d ‘accidentally on purpose’ bumped into John in the hallway before pulling him into someone’s parents’ bedroom. You’d recklessly thrown your arms around him.

“Woah, woah, woah. What you daen?” he’d whispered in a panic.

“Please, Johnny,” you’d slurred drunkenly. “I dunno when I’ll see you again. Somethin’ tae remember me by.”

You had leaned in to kiss him but he turned his head. You were so drunk you didn’t care. You sucked on his neck, feeling that dark stubble under your sloppy tongue as your hand found his cock in his jeans.

But he’d stopped you in your tracks. Pinned your arms to the side. He was stronger than you, even as a teenager.

“Naw, look, I cannae,” he had said. And even though your eyes could barely focus on his, you could tell he was annoyed at you. But you didn’t care. You just wanted him so badly. 

“Aw, come on, John. Please? I’ll show you my tits,” you had said. “I’ll - I’ll go the full way. I’ll do anythin’. Just - just don’t leave, awryt?”

The sound of cheers from the reception hall cuts through your memory and snaps you back to your current, rainy surroundings.

“Aye, well, I was probably just dreamin’,” says present-day John. “It probably never happened.” 

It’s considerate of him, to pretend that it never happened.

But no matter how hard you try to pretend, there’s no denying that you made a fool of yourself, plain and simple. 

Sometimes late at night when you can’t sleep, the memory makes you cringe as you replay that embarrassing moment. You try and cut yourself some slack, remind yourself that you were just a desperate, heartbroken teenager who’d drunk half a bottle of vodka working up the courage to make the move she’d always thought about. Begging John not to join the army. Begging John to fuck her. 

He had declined both requests.

But that doesn’t matter because you’re a fully grown woman now. One that hasn’t spent more than a second thinking about John MacTavish coming home for her brother’s wedding. No, sir. Not one second. Definitely not.

You exhale a laugh like it’s a funny memory. “Maybe it did happen. I cannae really remember, I must have been steamin’ drunk,” you say. But you know what happened. He knows what happened. And he knows you know. 

John's response comes with a delay, his chuckle soft and tinged with a hint of meaningful self-deprecation, to try and frame some of the embarrassment back onto himself. “You must’ve been steamin' to have tried it on wae the likes of me. You were always far too good for me,” he laughs, but this time his smile doesn’t quite reach those bright blue eyes. 

There’s a long silence as you say nothing. With a deliberate motion, you bring the vape to your lips, inhaling deeply, the action grounding you back to the here and now as the artificial kiwi-passionfruit-guava fills your lungs with something that you know must be bad for them. As you exhale, your gaze drifts down to your soaked shoes, the pink satin darkened by the rain. They’ve changed beyond recognition.

“Woah,” he coughs his own puff of smoke. “Now just whit is that ?” asks John, his eyes clocking your left hand.

You tilt your hand subtly, letting the diamond catch the cloudy daylight. “Did Tam no mention it?” The words linger between you, almost casual. “I’m engaged, John.”

For a moment, John just stares at your hand, his face unreadable. Then, a low whistle escapes him, a mix of surprise and something unspoken. He glances up at you, his eyes searching yours for the answer to a question that he doesn’t voice. “Engaged, eh? Tam never said a word.” His gaze shifts away, a frown creasing his forehead. “Where’s the lucky man the night?”

“He’s offshore the now - he works on the rigs.”

“Christ, I’ll say,” says John, taking your hand and examining your ring. “He’d need tae be workin’ in oil for a big rock like this wan.”

Your hand feels small in his. His thick brows soften from a frown when he pulls his gaze up from your engagement ring to meet your eyes. His eyes are blue and full of a warmth that you wouldn’t expect from someone who, from Tam’s account, is a hardened soldier. 

Your heart thuds in your chest when you realise that he’s been holding your hand for too long. But you don’t retract it.

“Aww the best tae the happy couple, then,” he says softly. “I suppose Tam never telt me ‘cause he had a lot to be dealing wae his own wedding and that.” John lets go of your hand. “Dae you no miss your fella, wae him being offshore?”

“Four weeks on, two weeks off. I see him plenty… More than your missus sees you, I expect. How often d’you come home? Once or twice a year?”

“I’ve no got a missus so I don’t need tae worry about that.”

The raucous laughter from inside the wedding venue dies down suddenly. And you hear the master of ceremonies announcing the entrance of the bride and groom.

“Gads,” says John, stubbing out his half-finished cigarette. 

“If we miss the first dance, we’re fucked,” you say. “I’ll never hear the fuckin’ end of it.”

You try to carefully step over the puddle - John takes your arm and holds on to you so you don’t fall. He opens the oak door for you but as you’re about to pass, he grips you tighter, stopping your movement. 

“Listen, darlin’, there are some things that are just off-limits,” he says, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in your ear as he leans close. He smells like cigarettes - normally that smell would turn your stomach but there’s something sweet in his aftershave, like vanilla, that makes the tobacco smell musky and warm. 

“Meanin’?” You look up at him, confused.

“The last time I saw you,” he murmurs. “You were mad wae it. I couldnae, in good conscience, take you up on that offer when you were that drunk. And you’re my best pal’s wee sister tae boot. I couldnae dae that tae Tam.”

“John, that was - that was a long time ago. It was nothin’.”

“And now,” he continues. “Now you’re engaged. Which means you’re even more off-limits.”

Off-limits?  

He’s talking like you’re in that bedroom again, begging for his attention. Except you’re not. You’re not begging for John again. He’s just assuming that you’re about to.

That presumptuous bastard. 

“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve, John MacTavish. Who are you tae try and let me down gently? It’s been ten years and I’m no even slightly interested in you anymore.”

“Naw, I know,” he says, refusing to match your volume or tone of indignation. “I’m just tellin’ you out loud why I won’t be trying it on with the most beautiful lassie in the room. And why I said no back then, as well.”

“Haul! You two!” You and John spring apart to see your tiny, furious wee auntie storming down the hallway. “You’re missing your brother’s first dance with his new wife and you’re both supposed to be on the dancefloor.” 

“We - we are?” you stammer.

“Aye, did you no hear the emcee telling the wedding party to join the bride and groom? That means bridesmaids and groomsmen, ya pair of glaikit idiots. Your maw’s fuckin’ ragin’”

And with that, John lets the door behind you swing shut and you both leg it past your auntie to the reception room, with you leaving wet footprints in your wake as you go. The music from the room swells into clarity as you burst through the doors and skid inelegantly onto the dancefloor. 

Your brother and his wife are too absorbed in their own happiness to have noticed your late entry and you breathe a sigh of relief. But it’s short-lived. You immediately stiffen again when John takes your waist and you realise that he’s your dance partner.

As the two of you begin swaying to the music, your mind races. You’re no longer that sad, rejected teenager, yet here, in John's reassuring grasp, you feel the ghost of her stirring. His gaze is careful, and guarded, but there's still that question in his eyes that he’s forbidden to ask.

And behind your own eyes, you can’t help the stream of curses going off inside your head. 

You curse your nerves for being the reason you got so drunk at that party. 

You curse John for being Tam’s best man.

But most of all, you curse yourself as you watch your left hand rest on John’s shoulder as you dance, the giant diamond ring glittering like a heavy disco ball. 

[moiravim]

Runaway

Dad!Tony Stark x GN!Teen!reader and Brother!Peter x YN

You get in a fight with your dad, Tony, and your brother, Peter, is stuck in the middle of it.

You and your dad didn't fight often, but when you did it always ended badly.

Today you had asked Tony why he spends more time with Peter, your brother, than you.

"No I do not! I treat you and your brother the same! You are so annoying, if I had to choose you or Peter I'd choose him!"

You stared at him with a blank face before shaking your head and responding; "your doing it right now!". You stormed off and went to your room.

When you got to your room you slammed the door and went into your closet. You packed all the things you'd need for a few days.

Although you were mad, you didn't want to leave Tony forever. You just wanted to see if he cared if you left.

So you left. With just a backpack and a pair of shoes you left the compound and went to the least busy part of the town.

You went into a small restaurant and ordered your food. When you paid you handed them your credit card.

You knew your dad had access to it and could see where you were, but that's exactly what you wanted.

You wanted his to come save you like he had when he first found you. You missed how he used to treat you.

And now that you have an older brother who gets all the attention it has just become worst.

By the time your food comes, you start to think that he isn't coming. He should've been here by now.

You start to wonder if he even cared for you at all. You quickly eat your food, starting to become stressed of the current situation your in.

You had just left your stable house and now you've ran away for almost no reason.

You finish your food and exit the restaurant, disappointed that your dad never came.

That was until you saw one of his cars parked in the front and him leaning against it with an angry expression.

You smiled when you saw him, running up to hug him. He softened into the hug and frowned as he saw how you reacted to seeing him.

"Get in the car" he said seriously. You practically jumped into the car.

He walked around the car and got in on his side. "What were you thinking?" He asks as he starts the car.

"...I wasn't. I'm sorry dad." You respond as your voice shakes a little. He looks at you with a sad expression before responding; "it's okay. Let's just get home".

The drive home was silent. When you went inside the compound Peter rushed up to you and said "your okay!". He pulls you into a hug and you immediately feel guilty.

You hadn't meant to scare him like this. Peter hadn't been anything but nice to you. "Kid, we need to talk" Tony said as he guided you to an empty room.

"Sweetheart, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean what I've said. I love you yn, I'm just worried that I'm not such a good example of you. You know the stuff I do is dangerous...".

You hug him again, this time bursting into tears. "Oh.. oh, no baby girl. Don't cry. You know I'll always love you, right?" He comforts as you nod. He wipes away your tears.

"Come on, let's go do something fun. Just the two of us" he says, walking with you back to the car.

The two of you go to a fancy restaurant together and eat dinner. You catch up on everything the other has been doing and make up for all the time you've spent without him.

When you go back to the compound Tony puts on the TV and you go to sit on the couch. First Tony sits next to you and then Peter comes in and sits next to you on the other side.

You fall asleep with your head rested on Tony's shoulder and Peter's head rested on yours.

Tony loved his kids more than anything. He'd make sure you knew that. And even though he knows you should be punished for running away, he can't help but spoiling you all week.

His poor kid thought that he didn't love them. And he wouldn't let that happen again. He'd definitely make sure to include you more often.

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

The School Trip - Ch 2 - Afternoon.

Summary: So you got the kids to their destination. Good luck being in close quarters with the hot English teacher.

2.5k

Warnings: 18+, swearing, fluff, flirting, annoying teenagers.

Chapter 1

"OOo, miss and sir are sharing a room." Jayda giggles with her friends as they walk past you towards their room down the hall.

"None of you guys wanted to share with me," you shrug, "even though I'm way cool and I've got like, so much rizz. Right Mr Todd." 

"So it's their fault you've gotta share with a boy." Jason laughs, clicking the door open to your twin room.

"Exactly."

"You guys are gross." The girls yell before they start whispering to each other, running off down the hall. 

"Kids right?" You look away, pushing past Jason and sitting yourself on the bed. Truth be told, the last thing you wanted to do was share a room with the girls. They need their privacy and you do not want to be kept up all night with their antics. You had tried to get you each your own room, but the hotel was small and the school wasn't going to pay for anything nicer than this. It's blind luck that they even had a twin room left, with the kids taking all the family sized ones.

"You didn't exactly tell them no." Jason says throwing your bags on the counter. The room fills with a wired silence as he stares down at you, "why don't we have our own rooms?" He asks, with a smile on his face. His eyes tracing the delicate lines of your legs. He blinks a few times, hoping that you didn't notice.

"You worried I'm gunna give you cooties?"

"I mean, have you got cooties? Because I don't think there's a cure for it."

"Maybe? So what if I do? Its only because there are so many kids, and they are booked out," you change the subject, unsure about where this conversation and the way he's looking at you, "had to divide the kids up and they only had one room left. But you can always go and share with the teens, I'm sure that'd be a hoot. You could learn witchcraft or talk about theoretical physics. Or ya know, the bus is empty."

"Or I can stay here and watch you read?" That does sound appealing. He was watching you on the bus and you had the cutest expression while trying to contain your excitement. It's curious, what makes them so thrilling for you? He wouldn't mind finding out.

"I mean yeah, or you could go for a walk."

"Have you got another book?"

"Excuse me?"

"A spare, something I could read?"

"You- what? Don't you have your own things to read?"

"I know you've got more than one of those slutty.books on your bag. There's no way it's that heavy with clothes."

"Why do you wanna read them? Aren't lit teachers supposed to be snobby and all about the classics."

"Could be a classic one day, everything good started out being controversial."

You shuffle from your bed, slipping down and flipping your suitcase open, "we'll  I've only got 3, which do you want?" You pick up the books throwing them on the bed.

"This looks interesting," he says, snatching the one with the large demon on the cover, "what's it about?" He flicks through the pages, his eyes glaring over the words. "Late Night Deal?"

"Yeah, especially." 

"Cool."

"Might go grab some sun though, wanna go outside and read?" You throw a dust cover at him. "Whack that over it first."

"I'm sure it's going to be believable that I'm reading," he turns the cover over, "Halliday's fundamental physics."

"Better than them thinking you're reading Late Night Deal. That cover really doesn't leave a lot to the imagination."

With a roll of his eyes, Jason slaps the cover over the book, slipping his phone into his pocket and heading out into the sunshine. 

You watch him go, surprised at how easy this is. You had thought the weekend would be weird, that sharing a room with the hot English teacher would be torture. He's always been kind in your limited interactions  but with a face like that, you had convinced yourself he'd be full of himself, the classic English teacher snob. But he seems so nice and genuinely takes interest in your less than perfect book taste. The way he smiled at you when you talked on the bus about the trip, like he just wanted to hear you speak. Fuck, why isn't a dick? That's what you were hoping, that he'd be awful and the stupid crush you have on him would die at the surface level.

You take another book, your sunglasses and head down to meet him at the small park just outside of the hotel.

Xx

"Ah, I'm going to need some help here." He calls from the other side of the park, your seat on the hotel patio resting just under the cover of the awning while he opted for the full sun seats.

You drop your book, rushing to his side as he tries to grab the sea of papers that's littering the lawn. "Dude's, what is going on?"  

"My book exploded and my notes!" Keira calls as she and the other girls try to grab the papers flying around in the wind. 

You and Jason rush to help, gathering up all the notes, laughing as you run through the small grassed area. "That ones getting away," you shout as one fly's up near a tree and you both rush towards it. 

"Here I've got i-" Jason's cut off as you rush into him, "woah there," he grips your shoulders. You look so cute with sweat on your brow annd your hair fucked by the wind, "I think it's stuck in the tree."

"Get up there and get it then." You suggest taking a step back, trying to keep your eyes from his and the weird tingly feeling it gives you.

"Can't reach," he looks up into the tree with his hand shading his eyes from the sun, "maybe if I lift you up?"

"That- ah.. wouldn't be appropriate. "

"Certainly be less creepy than me lifting one of the kids up."

"Fine," you shrug, defeated, "just don't drop me."

"I wouldn't." He assures you, his hands gripping at your waist as he effortlessly picks you up.

"Bit higher," you stretch your arm out, the paper so close, "nearly there," you lean your foot into his stomach trying to elongate yourself so you can get it, "got it." 

You grab the paper and suddenly you're falling, wondering how you even got so high and then the sun's gone and something heavy lands on your stomach.

"Sorry," Jason smiles apologetically, "you got me in the diaphragm. Did you get the paper?"

"Yeah, right here," you cough, the air caught in your lungs from where you fell and not from the way he's looking at you, "we should get up."

"Yeah before-"

"Ooooo!" All the teenagers sing song together before bursting into laughter.

"Too late," you laugh along, pushing him the the chest before displaying the saved piece of paper above your head.

Trying to gather yourself up, you rush over to Keira and away from Mr Todd. Handing them to her with a stern warning to keep a hand on her things.

"Not much time for relaxing now," Jason says, picking up your book from the ground and relaxing back on the bench a few meters from the students. The scent of your perfume still lingering on his button down, he pulls it from his chest, trying to shake the smell from it. He fails miserably as the scent spreads and he tries to hide his face in a book.

"We've still got half an hour before we gotta feed the hoard," you lay down on the opposite bench, your book shielding the sun from your eyes. You hear the girls laughing, pages being turned and you start to finally relax. 

Xx

"Yo! Young people! Can we all sit down please?" You try to call over the loud laughter that's echoing through the dining hall of the hotel.

The teenagers ignore you, too engrossed in their excited chatter as they try to find somewhere to sit. With a huff you, sit down in your seat, content to wait them out until they quiet down.

"Who wants to come to the state library tomorrow instead of star labs?" They all turn, staring at Jason in shock, "be a great place to learn to be quiet." All the shocked eyes turn to a glare as they each take a seat and lower their chatting. 

"Thanks." You say as Jason takes his seat next to you, "they can get a bit too loud sometimes. Like they're worried they Wong be heard over each other and-"

"And it gets louder and louder." He finished for you, "Yeah I know, you should've heard my class after we watched 10 things I hate about you. Swear they'd been possessed by demons or something."

"Oh I love that movie. Is that why they came into my lab and tried to put their fingers in the bunsen burners?"

'Yeah, most likely. They were quite taken with the main characters."

"Me too, I had such a crush on him when I was a teen."

"Oh really? You got a thing for bad boys?"

"Not at all," you shake your head, "but a good boy who looks bad? That's every teenage girl's dream."

"Did you grow out if it?" He leans in, his fingers slipping up the exposed patch of skin on your arm. He catches your eye and when your eyes dart down to his hand on your thigh, then to the teenagers around you he pulls back, clearing his throat, "It's a great way to get them interested in Shakespeare. I've got she's the man ready to go next, I can't wait for them to see it. They're going to lose their minds.

"What's your favourite kind of cheese?" You laugh, your shoulder brushing against his as you rock back on your chair.

"Why miss, are you hitting on me?" He says as he turns to you blocking the kids from you and with how big he is it almost feels like you're alone at the table.

"I-" You reel your blood start to heat up "- it's from the movie, right?" He stares into your eyes.and you feel other parts of you warming up as well "- it's a joke."

"Shame." He leans back into you, his arm resting on the back of your chair, "my favourite cheese is brie. Soft cheeses are melt in your mouth good." He glances down, his eyes following the line of your tongue as you lick your lips, "but you know what."

"What?" 

"It's hard to find a good cheese," he sits back slightly, putting some air between you, "they always expire or are too crisp or I can't see them in my fridge. Somehow I always miss seeing the cheese right in front of me."

'Hmm," you cough, trying to regain your composure in front of 30 kids and the man that's starting as you like you're a snack, "deep thoughts on cheese then, cool. Cool. Cool."

The waitstaff start to bring out everyone's meals as you settle yourself and you let out a tiny thank fuck. Readjusting your seat to put a bit more distance between you, unfortunately your leg brushes against Jason's and you feel the sting lighting zap zing up your leg. Shit. 

The noise of the kids fills up the room again and you find yourself grateful for all their questions about tomorrow needing something go distract you from the handsome teacher beside you. From the way he keeps trying to subtly look at you and the way your only noticing this because you're doing the same.

The rest of dinner goes by smoothly, he's still very close. His arm occasionally brushing against yours and your knees touching the whole night. But with Mason in front of you, telling you how excited he is for tomorrow you find some peace in his distraction.

Xx

"Cute pjs," you remark, pulling back the covers on your bed and setting eyes on the.man walking out of your shared bathroom, "you look like a giant teddy."

"Yeah," he pulls on the brown button up that's trying its best not to pop open, "was kind of last minute. I didn't think it would be appropriate for me to sleep in my sweats, with someone else in the room."

"I really don't care. I'm so tried, we're whatever you want."

"Maybe I want to look like a teddy bear," he moves towards his bed, his body squishing to fit through the tight space, "maybe someone will want to cuddle me." 

"Wh-ye-" you cough out, jumping into bed in an attempt to hide your face, "goodnight."

"Good night," he whispers back, slipping into his own bed. He sees you facing away pulling a pillow from under his head he turns to his side, wrapping his arms around it. He hopes he dreams about cuddling you, about being your big teddy bear. If he can't have it in real life, a dream would be sufficient.

Chapter 3

Tags

@ilikw @bubbles-incorrect-yb @megumisbabymama @nutmeg030 @gone-batty-fics @lovelyrissa @igotanidea @parkjammys @princessbl0ss0m @prettyacademia00

[letteredlettered]

I really struggle with the idea I've seen expressed in some quarters and hinted at in some fic that if WWX had just been sincere and friendly with LWJ in their youth, instead of constantly teasing him and trying to provoke his ire, they could've just been friends.

The truth is that WWX does sincerely apologize several times and sincerely confesses he wants to be friends; it's only when LWJ gives no response that he proceeds to turn it into teasing and aggravating behavior. I think that WWX would have basically needed to ignore every single signal that LWJ gave that LWJ didn't want to give him the time of day. He would have needed to over and over again submit to being ignored and dismissed and just pretend like it was a normal thing for a friend to do, because part of the point is that LWJ doesn't know how to have friends.

Not all friends tease each other, true. Certainly plenty of friends do not tease each other in the annoying, sometimes hurtful way WWX teases! But plenty of people did not tease LWJ and were perfectly polite to him, but he still did not have friends. When LWJ does like someone, he's so repressed and confused about it that he doesn't know how to show it or what to say.

Even if he did know how to show his feelings, what LWJ fell in love with was this terror who would not stop provoking him and could not stop teasing him. It's unclear to me that he even would have liked WWX to stop teasing and provoking him. It seems to me that he would not nearly be so interested if WWX was suddenly all politeness and kindness; it seems to me that he would not have been nearly so thrilled with WWX if WWX was just nice and friendly.

Regardless, I'm not trying to say that WWX was faultless or the fact that they weren't BFFs was all LWJ's fault, but I am trying to say it's a real two-way street.

Likewise, people who say that LWJ was "being mean" to WWX or that it's LWJ's fault they weren't friends because LWJ didn't accept WWX's apologies or because LWJ didn't believe WWX's overtures about friendship also seem to be missing the point. First of all, just as what really interested LWJ about WWX was WWX being a little shit, what really interested WWX about LWJ was the fact that he couldn't get a reaction out of him. I don't think it's the case that if LWJ suddenly just started being friendly and sweet to WWX WWX would've just dropped him as a friend, but I fail to see how WWX could become so out-of-his-mind obsessed with him, since even after they're together, WWX loves making LWJ angry, loves getting reactions out of LWJ because it is hard and it is rare.

And just like WWX would have had to ignore LWJ's dismissal of him, LWJ would have had to ignore WWX's constant cruelty, constant tricks, constant insincerity if he'd just decided to accept WWX's friendship. He would have to deal with being flustered and embarrassed and made into a fool, because it's not like WWX stops doing that once he's your friend. And I think the whole point of their teenage relationship is that it's very hard, when you're a teen, to be made a fool, even if you like it a little, and it's especially hard for someone raised the way LWJ was.

Tl;dr, I don't understand any of these arguments about either LWJ or WWX being "at fault" for their bad relationship early on; I think the point of the novel is though they like each other they're kind of fundamentally incompatible, and they have to grow into their compatibility (and to be fair, LWJ does most of the growing; WWX for the most part remains a little shit).

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

...the unholy flames of ♥kink!week♥ burn brightly...

(don't know what kink week is? click here!) ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

∼ the fires of unholy week rage still, but perhaps today the sinful and the sweet can mix — consider it a calm before the storm ∼

∼ day four brings us our beloved cop with a heart of gold ♥ Miranda Hilmarson ♥ ∼

∼ tags and the fic are under the cut ∼

♥ i've worked very hard on this series — it was a huge project to undertake and i would very much appreciate if you left me comments with your thoughts and impressions — you already know they make my heart sing ♥ (AO3 link — i prefer it to tumblr vastly)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

tags: #fluff and smut #cunnilingus #vaginal fingering #strap-ons #lesbian sex #bisexual character #gangbang #lesbian gangbang #porn #sex work #triple penetration #double penetration #face-fucking #face-sitting #butt slapping #face slapping #acted-out rape #pretend rape #degradation #verbal humiliation #handcuffs #prison sex #friends to lovers #rape fantasy #multiple orgasms #kink!week

...but we could be (clicking on the title will lead you to ao3)

Miranda is crunching on her cereal.

Very loudly. Robin waits for her to finish eating so she can concentrate. She counts to ten in her mind to calm down. Then she counts to twenty and then to fifty, and Miranda is still fucking eating. It sounds like she’s chewing on her own teeth.

Finally, she snaps. “Hilmarson, will you cut it out?”

“Whaf?” she asks, mouth full, eyes wide. She looks like a kicked puppy.

“The chewing. It’s fucking annoying.”

If Miranda was a puppy, her ears would droop. She looks down at the desk and swallows a mouthful of cereal. “Oh. Sorry.”

Robin returns to typing on her computer. Finally, some fucking peace and quiet—

“I shouldn’t overeat, anyway. I was just so hungry. I’m going to brunch later, you know.”

“Hm,” Robin grumbles, not wanting to incite further conversation — and it works. Miranda is no longer crunching on her goddamn cereal, she’s no longer talking, and Robin can finally work in peace. 

The fucking brunch is bothering her though.

“Since when do you eat brunch?” she can’t help but ask. She never imagined Miranda to be the sort of person who eats brunch.

“Oh, I don’t usually — I only eat brunch with my pornstar friends!”

Robin almost chokes on her own spit. “Your what?”

“My pornstar friends,” she says, beaming.

“Right.” Robin hates that she wants to know more about this. “And those are… friends from school that went on to become pornstars?”

“Oh, no. We know each other from the shoot. I starred in a video, you know.” She sounds proud as she says it.

Robin blinks. “You starred… in a porno?” she asks.

“Oh, yeah! It was like an all-girl gangbang scene in a women’s prison. And all the girls were super nice so we stayed in touch. We get brunch every couple of weeks.”

Robin stopped listening on the gangbang part. She shakes her head. “Hilmarson, I’m sorry, but what the fuck?”

“I’ve been asked, you know. I was on my way to the gym and this really nice lady approached me and told me they need someone tall for a shoot they’re doing, and asked me if I’d be comfortable filming a sex scene. And I said, depends, you know. I wouldn’t do any piss stuff, that’d be nasty. Then she told me it’s an all girl gangbang scene and I couldn’t believe it! That’s been my fantasy since I was a teen!”

“Your fantasy?” Robin repeats. All of this sounds like a fever dream, and something that could definitely only happen to Miranda.

“Yeah! People have asked me to do sex work before, you know. Because of, well,” she gestures to herself, waving her arms up and down, “this. I’ve been asked to be an escort, but that just seemed, oh, I don’t know. Rather bleak.”

Robin can’t imagine a bleaker job than being a police officer, but she says nothing.

“I usually say no when people ask, though — but I couldn’t say no to this. It was a once in a lifetime chance!”

Robin blinks really, really slowly, trying to process what she just heard. 

Miranda’s face suddenly lights up. “Oh! Oh! I can show you!” 

Robin shakes her head. “What?” she asks, but Miranda is already scooting over to Robin’s desk on her chair. Before Robin knows it, Miranda is sitting next to her and grabbing her keyboard.

“It’s available online. It’s on a payed website, but I have access to it. Just a sec,” she says as she types in the address.

Robin grabs the keyboard from her, and Miranda gives her a wide-eyed look. “Are you fucking mental? You can’t search for porn at a police station! And we certainly can’t watch that here!”

“Oh. Right,” she says, looking a bit embarrassed. She seems to genuinely not have thought of that. “Well, we could watch it at my place.”

Robin can’t believe her ears. “Sorry, what?”

“We could watch it at my place,” Miranda repeats. “We can get popcorn and beer, and I can show you.”

Robin scoffs in bewilderment. “I won’t watch your porn, Hilmarson. That’d be weird.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Well, I’m fine with it. It’s really hot, you know. And it wouldn’t be weird. We wouldn’t like, watch the whole thing. We could just watch the beginning, before the action starts. It’s really cool. All the girls are amazing actresses, it’s really realistic. Well, until the part with the sex toys. There’s no way they could get away with having those in prison.”

“Absolutely not.”

There’s no way she’s watching porn with Miranda — especially not Miranda-porn. 

“Oh. Okay,” she says, disappointed, and rolls her chair back to her desk.

They continue to work in silence, but Robin can’t focus. Something’s bothering her.

“I didn’t know you were into girls,” she finally says.

She glances at Miranda, who opens up her drawer and pulls out a bag of chips. Her cereal sits forgotten next to her. 

“It didn’t come up.” Miranda opens the bag and shoves a fistful of chips into her mouth. Robin recoils at the horrifying crunching noise and turns her gaze back to the computer screen.

Miranda crunches on her chips for a couple of seconds before asking a question, Robin doesn’t want to answer — but she supposes it’s fair of Miranda to ask, since Robin was the one who broached the subject.  “Are you into girls, Griffin?”

“Not usually,” she says. She doesn’t really wanna talk about it.

“But sometimes?” Miranda asks, still crunching away.

“I guess.”

She lifts her gaze and finds Miranda looking at her with curiosity, munching on her chips. “I thought you had a bit of a vibe,” Miranda says.

“I don’t have a vibe.”

Miranda shrugs. “Okay. I’m not very good at telling, anyway. Girls like me, you know. I think it’s the height. I rarely have to approach first.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

“Okay,” Miranda says. “Want chips?”

“No.”

Robin hears Miranda shove the bag back into the drawer. They both continue to work in silence. Robin’s finding it hard to concentrate on work, but she refuses to stop. Her thoughts wander.

It never occurred to her that Miranda might be into women. She doesn’t know why the thought plagues her. It’s nothing special — many women are into other women. Robin has had… experiences. Not her thing, really. Except that one time — but that was its own sort of disaster.

She always thought Miranda had horrible taste in men. Her brother is a prime example, as well as their boss — just garbage man after garbage man. Women are at least prettier, if nothing else — even when their personalities are garbage. Maybe Miranda would do better finding a nice woman for herself. She hopes her taste in women is better than in men, but her hopes aren’t high — Miranda is sort of a walking disaster with no self-preservation instincts. Who accepts to star in a porno after being approached on the street?

About ten minutes pass in silence. Robin doesn’t work — instead she thinks about Miranda’s love life — and then the very subject of her thoughts interrupts her ruminating by speaking again.

“Hey, wanna have brunch with us? I’d really love for you to meet the girls. You’ll love them, I swear. They’re really nice.”

Unlike Miranda, Robin didn’t have breakfast, nor chips, and she can hear her stomach growling. She should probably eat something.

Ah, what the hell.

“Sure,” she says. 

Miranda squeaks — she’s practically vibrating with excitement.

Robin really hopes she won’t regret this.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

“Miranda! Miranda!” a group of five pretty young women squeals from across the restaurant. 

“Ohmygod, hiiii!” Miranda squeals back and scurries towards the girls. She pulls each of them into a bone crushing hug. They all reach up to her shoulders — they are absolutely tiny compared to her. Robin can’t imagine what that fucking video must have looked like.

“Oh, I’ve missed you, Mirandy!” one of them says, squished against Miranda’s chest. 

“I’ve missed you too!”

They all hug and scream and Robin just stands there, feeling like she’s witnessing a sorority girls reunion in an American rom-com. She’s already regretting this. “Everybody, meet Robin,” Miranda says after they’re done screaming, her face beaming in delight. Robin hates to admit that she looks kind of cute, all happy and glowing like this. “She’s gonna join us for brunch today.”

The nearest of the girls goes to pull her in a hug. “Hi, Robin! I’m Tracy.”

Robin scoots away. “Not a hugger. Sorry,” she says.

“Oh,” the girl says, clearly disappointed. 

“Oh, sorry, should’ve told you we are all huggers,” Miranda says to Robin, then turns to the girls. “She always acts all mean, but really she’s a delight. She’s the best partner one could wish for.”

“Work partner,” Robin adds, wanting to make it clear right off the bat that she and Miranda are not involved. They’re not even friends. “We’re work colleagues.”

The rest of the girls introduce themselves a bit more coldly, shaking her hand, and she immediately forgets their names. They’re all eyeing her up and down, studying her — it’s all rather awkward. 

“We should sit down,” Miranda says, smiling, oblivious to the awkwardness, and they all sit down at the big table the girls have already occupied beforehand. Robin spends the brunch eating her food and minding her business. The girls try to include her in the conversation a couple of times, but once they realise she keeps giving one word replies to everything and doesn't speak unless directly spoken to, they slowly give up.

It doesn’t take a particularly observant person to see that the girls absolutely adore Miranda. They’re very touchy-feely with her, they all look at her with wide adoring eyes, and they seem to find her jokes genuinely funny. Robin can see why Miranda likes to hang out with them. Nobody at the police station treats her like that, that’s for sure. 

The entire thing has a bit of a “schoolgirls at a sleepover” vibe, but gayer. All of the girls are very clearly into Miranda — they touch her uniform, ruffle her hair, give her an occasional peck on the cheek — and Miranda just sits there, looking absolutely delighted by everything that’s going on, radiating major golden retriever vibes, seemingly oblivious to the fact that these girls would clearly gladly fuck her again (that much is obvious even to Robin). There’s also lots of giggling and talking about clothes (she didn’t know Miranda was into clothes — but then again she did seem to be delighted by Prada shoes that one time). Robin’s just waiting for them to start braiding each other’s hair. The whole thing makes her uncomfortable, especially the physical affection — and on top of that, she’s never been the girly type. In fact, girls like that bullied her in school. She always thought Miranda was similar in that regard, but it looks like she was wrong. 

She seems to be learning a lot of things about Miranda today.

She can’t wait for the whole thing to be over. The food was good, but not good enough to justify the torturous socialising she, for some unknown reason, willingly subjected herself to. She’s relieved when they all start getting up from the table. 

She tries to move to the side and wait for Miranda to say her goodbyes, hoping no one will talk to her again — and she almost succeeds in her plan.

One of the girls — the one with jet black hair down to her butt and an eyebrow slit (she believes her name is Sydney or maybe Sally) — approaches her. 

“Can I help you?” Robin asks rudely. 

“Yes, actually, you can,” the girl says. “Listen, I don’t know what the fuck your thing is with Mir and it’s none of my business — I know she likes a tough bitch — but if you break her heart I will fucking cut you, get it?”

Robin scoffs. “What?” 

“You heard me. That girl is a fucking delight. If you dim her light, we will all cut you.

“You might want to think before you threaten me. I’m a police officer,” Robin says, so pissed she doesn’t even try to explain she and Miranda are definitely not an item.

Sally — or Sydney — simply raises an eyebrow and eyes her up and down. “We’ve got contacts in the police, bitch. Watch out.”

And with that, she turns. “Mir-mir!” she yells and hurries towards Miranda. “I didn’t get my hug!”

Robin just watches Miranda hug whatever-her-name-is, shocked, mouth agape. She says nothing further as she and Miranda leave the restaurant. She doesn’t bother to wave at the girls, or even spare them a second glance.

“So? What do you think? Aren’t they amazing?” Miranda asks the second they step onto the street. Her voice is high-pitched with excitement. “With them I feel like I’m finally part of the girl’s club. It’s so nice.”

She doesn’t even look at Miranda, just keeps on walking. Miranda just follows her like a puppy. 

“I didn’t know you were a girly girl.”

“Oh, I never used to be. Girls like them used to bully me in school. And look at me now,” she says proudly. “I really came a long way.”

“It’s because they want to fuck you,” Robin says before she can stop herself.

“Oh, that’s not the only reason. They were really nice to me at the shoot, and they really didn’t have to be. I was very nervous, and they did their best to make me comfortable.”

Robin scoffs. “One of them threatened to, I quote, ‘cut me’ if I break your heart. The one with black hair.”

“Oh, Samantha?”

(Okay — so neither Sydney nor Sally.)

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that,” Miranda says carefully. “It’s just something you say.”

“Yeah, when people are an item. But you and I are not an item.” 

“Oh, they know that.”

Robin stops walking and looks Miranda in the eyes. “Do they?”

Miranda just laughs. “Yeah! You told them, and then I told them again.” 

She pauses for a second. 

“Besides, I know you wouldn’t spare me a second glance,” she adds and gives Robin a little smile — the smile of a person who’s used to not getting picked first and is completely okay with it. For some reason, it breaks Robin’s heart.

She frowns. “It’s not that I wouldn’t.”

Miranda’s eyes light up. “You would? Okay, so like, if you didn’t know me, and we met randomly at a bar, would you buy me a drink?”

Robin sighs and starts walking again. “I don’t know, Hilmarson. Maybe. I’d have to be drunk.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, I’d be drunk too!” she says and happily scurries after her. “Oh, that’s nice to know. I’d totally let you buy me a drink.”

Robin says nothing further. They walk in silence for a while until they reach the police station.

When Miranda goes to enter the building, Robin stops her. “Wait,” she says. 

Miranda turns and looks at her with those big, blue, puppy eyes. “Yes?”

Robin doesn’t know what possessed her. 

“If I agree to see the video, do you promise to tell those girls once and for all that we are not together?”

“Oh, you don’t have to watch it if you don’t want to. And they know we’re not together.”

“Tell them again.”

“Okay, sure,” she says.

They stand like that for a long moment, neither of them moving. “Uh… do you want to… see the video?” Miranda finally asks, confused.

Robin purses her lips. “It will plague me if I don’t. But we stop at the actual porn part.”

Miranda’s entire face lights up. “Of course,” she chirps. “Oh, I’ll get snacks and everything, it’s gonna be so much fun, I promise! Come to mine around eight?”

“Sure.”

She ignores Miranda the rest of the day, but Miranda is in such a good mood that she doesn't seem to mind — or notice — at all.

Robin doesn’t know why she did it. She supposes it’s her morbid curiosity — or perhaps it’s that sometimes she gets awfully lonely in her flat at night, and she would appreciate some company. Miranda is obnoxious, but she’s the only person that Robin didn’t manage to chase away with her foul attitude — not for the lack of trying. 

Miranda is not someone Robin would normally pick as a friend, but she has to admit that Miranda is a very good friend. Robin knows she could count on her if needed — and now that she thinks about it, if her place was burning down, Miranda would be the first person she’d call — because she knows Miranda would answer. 

Miranda has shit taste in men, but maybe Robin has shit taste in friends. And maybe she needs someone like Miranda to keep her at least somewhat fit for society. Without her, she’d become a true hermit. 

…

Still — is it weird to watch porn with a work colleague? 

She decides not to dwell on it — she already agreed to the thing, anyway. And it’s Miranda — there’s no way it could lead to anything sexual. Worst case scenario, it’ll be awkward, and then they’ll never mention it again.

With that thought, she closes the subject in her mind and continues to work undisturbed until the end of her shift.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

When Miranda opens the door that evening, she’s grinning from ear to ear. Robin can’t get an image of an excited puppy out of her head. 

“Hiii!” she says, moving aside so Robin can enter. Robin’s eyes wander to her flimsy, almost see-through T-shirt. 

“Couldn’t you have found a proper shirt to put on?” she grumbles, moving past her and walking towards the living room. She knows where everything is — after all, all the apartments in this building are more or less the same. 

Miranda glances down towards her own chest. “Oh, I just forgot. These are my PJs.” She scurries after Robin, following her to the couch. “Why, Griffin? You into me?” she asks, grinning from ear to ear. “You wanna daaaate me and make loooooove to me?”

Robin sits down and on the couch, crossing her arms and legs. Miranda plops down on the couch next to her, making kissing noises into the air. The couch bounces with the force of Miranda’s weight being thrown on it. 

“If you continue to be weird about this, I will leave.”

She won’t leave. Robin hates to admit it, but she’s feeling a bit weepy tonight. She would really appreciate some human contact — but she will be grumpy about it

“If it really bothers you, I can change,” Miranda says. 

“Forget it,” Robin grumbles. 

“Okay. Want a beer?”

“Sure.”

She could use a beer. Or seven. She can’t believe she’s about to watch Miranda’s fucking porno — even if it is only the intro.

Miranda disappears into the kitchen and quickly comes back with two opened beers and a bucket of popcorn. She puts the popcorn on the little coffee table in front of the couch and hands one beer to Robin. “Here you go. Do you want a glass?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” She takes a big swig.

“Someone’s thirsty,” Miranda says as she sits down, taking a sip as well. She makes herself comfortable, lifting her long legs (that, Robin notices, look even longer and leaner in the black tights she’s wearing) onto the couch and crossing them. The way she moves, all tall and lanky, reminds Robin of a baby deer. 

“It’s just been a day,” Robin says.

Miranda furrows her brows. “Has it? You typed on your laptop and had brunch.”

Robin shrugs, staring at the bowl of popcorn on the table, not looking at Miranda or her flimsy fucking shirt. “Well, it’s been a day in my brain, I guess.”

“Oh. I get it. I have those too, sometimes. You PMS-ing?”

Robin takes another swig of her beer. “None of your business.”

“So grumpy,” Miranda tuts. “So, you wanna get right to it? I have it all set up on the TV.”

“Sure.”

Robin drinks her beer, feeling a bit fragile. Maybe she is about to get her period. She shouldn’t for another two weeks, but maybe it’s early. Being with someone really helps, though — and so does the beer.

Miranda grabs the remote from the coffee table and fumbles with it a little bit. “Okay, so it’s connected to the tablet… alright, here we go.”

A big title appears on the screen. 

Girlbang series production — Fun In Prison

  Robin already regrets this. “I still can’t believe you agreed to that. You’re a police officer. Did they at least blur your face?”

Miranda presses pause. “Oh, they asked me if I wanted them to, and I said no.”

Robin chokes on her beer. “Why?”

“Oh, I just think it’d ruin the viewer’s experience. Besides, it’s on a paid website. Nobody in their right mind pays for porn.” She cranes her head towards Robin and Robin finally makes eye contact. She tries very hard not to stare at her chest. It’s not that Miranda has such amazing tits, it’s just that you can’t just not look at someone’s tits if they’re right fucking there. “Have you ever paid for porn?”

“No?” Robin says.

“Precisely.”

Robin scoffs, and then chuckles. “So. Wanna tell me about the plot?”

“Oh, yes!” She bounces on the couch, grinning excitedly, her eyes twinkling. Robin must admit, when she isn’t being annoying, she is rather endearing. “They didn’t even plan on filming a prison scene before they hired me, it was supposed to be just a regular gangbang. But then I told that lady that I’m a cop, and she lost her mind. She told me, Miranda, I’m ready to beg you to do a prison scene — and I said, oh you don’t have to beg, I’ll do it, that’s like, so hot. You ever seen Orange Is The New Black?”

“No.”

Miranda sighs. “Babe, you live under a rock.”

Robin just shrugs and drinks some more of her beer.

“Anyway, the plot is basically that I’m a cop who gets ambushed while doing nightly rounds and then they all fuck me and it’s really hot.”

“Sounds very complex,” Robin deadpans.

“It’s better when you see the visuals. And all the girls are reeeeally hot — but you already know that.”

“I’m sure you’re hot too. Like, those girls seemed into you today.”

“Told you — it’s the height.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’ve got other things going.”

Miranda looks at her with those big, blue puppy eyes and Robin feels a wave of affection wash over her like a fucking disease. 

“Like what?” she asks, and Robin can see the question is genuine.

“I don’t know, Hilmarson, but you do,” she mumbles grumpily. “I can’t think of anything right now, you put me on the spot. Let’s just watch the thing.”

She can think of at least a couple of things — but it feels weird to hand out compliments. She can’t force herself to push the words out of her mouth.

Miranda looks a bit disappointed. “Sure,” she says and presses play.

Robin has to admit — this thing isn’t half bad, as far as pornos go. The acting is not terrible (except Miranda’s, which is tragic). The prison uniforms look correct, and Miranda’s does as well — it’s a bit tighter than it needs to be, but Robin thinks it suits her. It shows off her long legs. Miranda actually looks good, and they put some very natural makeup on her. 

Miranda towers over every girl, and it looks a bit ridiculous when the first one comes up to her and shoves her against the wall. That’s, however, when Miranda’s acting really improves — and Robin suspects it’s because she isn’t acting anymore. She looks like she’s really into it.

The intro is long — longer than Robin thought it would be, but she supposes that’s how it is with high quality porn you gotta fucking pay for — and Robin is on her second beer and already drunk, and she can’t stop thinking about how disappointed Miranda looked when she refused to compliment her and she also can’t stop thinking about her tits in that see-through shirt and about her puppy eyes, and wow, that girl pinned her on the bed and bit her neck and Miranda’s moan is really sexy and fuck, that was really hot. Another girl rips off her shirt and Miranda is now only in a lacy blue bra and Robin can see her nipples, and suddenly she’s hyperaware of the fact that she could also see her nipples if she just turned a bit to the left and—

Miranda pauses the video. 

“That’s the intro,” she says, glancing towards Robin. “What do you think?”

“It’s good,” Robin says and her voice is much squeakier than she intended it to be. She clears her throat. “It’s good.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that? You don’t look like you like it. You’re doing that weird face.”

Robin frowns. “What weird face?”

“That weird face you always do. You scrunch your nose and look annoyed.”

“I think that’s just my face.”

“Oh.”

They sit in awkward silence for a bit, and then Robin turns to Miranda to fully face her.

“I’m a bitch,” she says.

Miranda furrows her brows. “What?”

“I’m a bitch. I’m a bitch to you, I’m a bitch to everyone. Everybody in their right mind has already left me. Why won’t you leave?”

Miranda is silent for a moment. She places her beer down on the coffee table. “Do you… want me to leave you?”

“No.”

“Why? You don’t seem to like me. You couldn’t even think of one thing to compliment me on.”

“That’s because I’m a bitch. But I do like you. And yes, you do annoy me, but I think you have many good qualities. You’re loyal and kind, even when everybody’s being terrible to you, including myself. Your jokes aren’t funny, but they cheer me up. And you have much more going for you than your height. You have nice tits and really long legs and pretty eyes, and no man I ever saw you fool around with was ever worthy of you.”

Miranda stares at her, at a loss for words. “Do you really think that?” she slowly asks.

“Yes. I really don’t understand why you didn’t ditch me a long time ago, though.” She averts her eyes, then takes another sip of her beer. “I don’t think I’m worthy of you either.”

Robin can feel the couch shift as Miranda scoots closer to her. Miranda takes the beer from her hand and places it on the coffee table, then grabs her by the shoulders. “Robin. Robin, look at me.”

Robin reluctantly meets her gaze. She doesn’t think they’ve ever been this close. She can feel Miranda’s breath on her face, and the only thing she can think about is that Miranda’s eyes are very blue.

“I think you’re a good person,” Miranda says. Robin glances at her lips. They are very pink. “You’ve just been through a lot. I like you, and I want to be your friend. I won’t just leave if you’re acting like a bitch sometimes.”

Robin kisses her. 

Miranda squeaks, but she doesn’t pull away. Robin grabs her neck and her waist and pulls her closer and then Miranda is kissing her back. She hums into the kiss and it drives Robin wild, and then she pushes her tongue into Miranda’s mouth and Miranda immediately welcomes it. They kiss like they’re hungry, and Miranda is a sloppy kisser but somehow in a good way, and Robin loves it, loves how warm and wet her tongue is, and how big her hands feel on her waist. Miranda whimpers when Robin’s hands wander to her tits. She finally indulges into what she’s been thinking about the entire evening and gropes Miranda over her shirt. 

Miranda pulls away. “Fuck,” she breathes out. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes. But I also want to watch the porno till the end. I want to see you get fucked, and then I want to fuck you.”

Miranda’s eyes go dark with desire and she kisses her again, then pulls away. “No problem,” she says, grinning a bit mischievously. She pushes Robin back into the couch. “Lie back and relax. I’ll eat you out while you watch.” 

Robin can’t remember the last time someone ate her out, and her pussy throbs just thinking about it. “Okay,” she says with a breathy voice. Miranda presses play and the video takes off where they paused it — a closeup of Miranda’s tits in the lacy blue bra.

Miranda pushes away the coffee table and sinks down on the floor, getting onto her knees in front of Robin. Robin’s chest is heaving and she can feel her cheeks flushing as Miranda unzips her jeans. “Up,” she says, and Robin lifts her hips. Miranda pulls down her jeans and underwear in one swift move, pulling them over her knees and feet and discarding them on the floor, leaving her completely bare and exposed. Robin almost feels self-conscious, almost tells her to wait, to slow down — but then Miranda looks at her bare pussy with such lust and adoration in her gaze that Robin just can’t feel embarrassed anymore. 

“It’s… It’s been a while since I’ve had someone do this to me,” she says breathlessly. 

“Just relax. I’ll take care of you,” Miranda says, and she also sounds a bit out of breath, her cheeks flushed and her eyes dark. Robin fixes her gaze onto the screen.

  Miranda’s pants are already gone. She’s lying on the bed, handcuffed, her chest and cheeks flushed. One of the girls is straddling her waist and groping her tits underneath her bra, two are kissing and biting her neck, ears and jaw, two are stroking her long legs and slapping her thighs. Miranda is breathing heavily. Her eyes are hazy and dark, her lips parted. The girl straddling her pulls off her bra, ripping it apart and exposing her small, perky tits. Miranda gasps. One of the girls kissing her neck takes her tit into her mouth and bites her nipple, making her cry out. “Fuck,” Miranda breathes out.

“That’s what we’re gonna do to you,” one of the girls says. “Fuck you until you can’t fucking walk, bitch.” The one straddling her starts slapping her tits, the other slaps her cheek, and one of them yanks her panties down. The camera zooms in on Miranda’s pink, dripping cunt.

  Robin lets out a breathy moan — both because of the visual on the screen, and because of Miranda lightly biting the inside of her thigh. She is gentle, reverent — kissing and licking Robin’s thighs, running her thumbs along where Robin’s thighs meet her vulva. Robin is squirming and breathing hard, and she’s surprised how much she’s affected by Miranda’s teasing. 

Finally, Miranda gives Robin’s pussy a hot, long lick — Robin shivers and moans. Miranda’s tongue is warm and wet against her pussy, and she wants more. She grabs her head, tangles her fingers into Miranda’s soft, blonde hair and pulls her closer. Miranda grins into her cunt and starts giving her pussy long, fervent licks.

  One of the girls is fastening a strap around her hips. She hovers over Miranda’s face, lowering her pussy down to Miranda’s mouth, the strap grazing Miranda’s forehead. “Eat my pussy, pretty cop,” she says, and starts riding Miranda’s face. The strap bounces up and down and hits Miranda’s face as the girl grinds her hips and Miranda licks her cunt with fervour — you can tell she’s really into it. One girl is slapping her tits, and the other produces another strap, lubes it up and shoves it into Miranda’s cunt. Miranda’s stomach muscles contract as the girl stretches her out and then starts fucking her at a relentless pace. She’s whimpering and moaning, her face covered in drool and the other girl’s arousal. “Such a tight pussy. Does it hurt, pretty cop?” the girl fucking her mocks her and Miranda can only whimper.    Miranda’s pussy eating is sloppy. She licks and sucks and smears her own drool and Robin’s wetness around with her tongue. She shoves her tongue inside of her, sucks on her pussy lips, licks her clit. 

Robin loves it. 

She’s never felt so worshipped and adored. In the past, when people ate her out, they usually just wanted to be done with it. Miranda is the complete opposite — perhaps she’s sloppy, but she eats her like she’s devouring her favourite meal. She’s taking her time, really getting in there, and she looks like she’s enjoying herself a lot. She’s humming and whimpering along with Robin. The room is filled with sounds from the video mixed with their own, real-time moans, and it shouldn’t be hot, but it is. “Fuck,” Robin gasps as Miranda finds a really good spot. “Do that again, fuck!”

Miranda is really good at following directions — and she really wants to please. She repeats the movement that made Robin cry out many times, and Robin’s thighs start trembling. “Fuck, Miranda,” she pants, and saying her name only spurs Miranda on, and she slips one finger into her dripping cunt and starts slowly fucking her. Robin keens. “Fuck, don’t stop!”

  The girls throw Miranda on the floor, making her kneel on all fours. Her wrists are still handcuffed. One of the girls spits in her mouth. “Suck my cock, slut,” she then says and shoves her strap into Miranda’s mouth. Miranda looks so hot sucking it — the camera zooms in on her face, on her wide and pretty blue eyes as she looks up at the girl fucking her face. The girl grabs her hair and shoves the strap deeper. Miranda’s eyes tear up as she gags, but she never stops sucking, bobbing her back and forth. “What a good slut you are,” the girl says. Miranda whimpers as two girls start spanking her ass, and the other starts fucking her asshole with a dildo.  The girl fucking her mouth pulls the strap out. “You love it. Say you love it.”

“No,” Miranda says, and Robin can tell it’s the script she must follow, because her eyes say yes and she cranes her neck to take the strap into her mouth again.  “Fucking liar. I know you love it, slut,” the girl says and grabs her hair, starts fucking her mouth faster than before. Tears stream down Miranda’s cheeks and she moans in pleasure as her mouth and ass are fucked relentlessly and her ass is spanked until it becomes bright red.

  Miranda slips another finger inside Robin, and Robin moans loudly. Miranda starts fucking her harder and licking her clit faster. “Yes, yes, yes,” Robin whimpers, pulling Miranda closer. Miranda moans as Robin pulls on her hair, and Robin starts rocking her hips against Miranda’s mouth.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Miranda keens as she rides a girl’s strap, while another girl fucks her from behind. Her face and chest are red, there are beads of sweat on her back and forehead, her hair is ruffled, her eyes closed and her brows furrowed with pleasure. Another girl kneels in front of her and shoves her strap in Miranda’s mouth again, muffling her cries of pleasure. The other two girls are pleasuring themselves, watching Miranda get fucked in every hole. The girl underneath her gropes her tits and the one behind her slaps her ass as they fuck her. 

The girl fucking her mouth pulls on her hair. “That’s it, you’re gonna come from this like a dirty slut,” she says and pulls the strap out of her mouth, and Miranda screams as pleasure overwhelms her. The girls don’t stop fucking her, and she keeps moaning and screaming and rocking her hips. “Fuckyes,” she cries as another wave of ecstasy washes over her.

  “Ah, Miranda,” Robin cries, “don’t stop — ah, fuck!” She feels herself clenching around Miranda’s fingers. She grinds on Miranda’s face, and Miranda hums and moans into her pussy, fucks her hard and fast until the tight coil in Robin’s belly snaps and she comes — hard. 

“Shit — fuck!” she cries. Miranda continues to fuck her and doesn’t stop licking her clit. Robin feels the tension build again, and before she knows it a second orgasm washes over her like a wave. She keens and clenches her thighs around Miranda’s head, trying to push her away from her sensitive clit. Miranda slowly pulls her fingers out of her and continues to gently lick her through the aftershocks. Robin’s thighs tremble. “Fuck,” she says breathlessly, her muscles convulsing as Miranda gives her aching clit a small kitten lick.

When Robin looks at the TV again, the screen is black.

She glances down at Miranda kneeling in between her legs. Miranda smiles and wipes her mouth on her forearm. She gives Robin that pretty, wide eyed look that Robin can’t admit she loves. 

“Do you have a strap?” Robin asks. 

“Yeah. Want me to fuck you with the strap?” Miranda asks, still a bit out of breath, climbing back up on the couch.

“No. I want to fuck you with it and make you moan like you did in the porno.”

Miranda’s face lights up. She smiles at Robin, grabs her arm and leads her towards the bedroom.

Miranda comes three times that night. After making her admit she came five times on the set, Robin makes a pact with herself to reach that number next time — but right now, she’s very, very sleepy.

As they lie next to each other on the bed, Miranda tentatively reaches for Robin’s hand. Robin doesn’t pull away. They stay like that for a bit, and then Robin rolls over and wraps her arm around Miranda’s waist. She can tell Miranda loves it.

“So, what are we now?” Miranda asks as she rubs little circles on her back.

“What do you mean?” Robin asks into Miranda’s chest, knowing very well what she means.

“I mean, are we an item?”

Robin waits a moment before she responds. 

“Not yet,” she says. “But… we could be.”

With her face buried in Miranda’s torso, she can’t see her smile.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Big thanks to @opheliauniverse for beta-reading. <3

taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @dumbasslesbi @bychrissi @scream-queenlover @muffintopxs @bigolgay @gwenslucifer @weemswife @yourhauntedhead @carnivorousflowers @i-have-insane-that-i-am-paper @softshrimpy @willowshadenox @syrenacrainn @weemssapphic @dianneking @imprincipalweemspet @kimiinou @ninelesbien @i-love-nerdy-stuff @eveymay @myzzjolanda @pluied-ete @brienneswife @gwenzone @principal-weems09 @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @gela123 @emilynissangtr @gwendolinechristieiscute @h-doodles @winterfireblond @alexusonfire @larissaoftarthweems @a-queen-and-her-throne @bikergurl5 @salems-spaghettios @theflashesoflove @catechristiesstuff @vendocrap8008 @billiedeansbitch @coffeemelko @lilfartbox1 @softshrimpy @amateurwritescm @daydream-cement @kaymariesworld @sicklygrlsicklygrl @wh0re4women @rippersz

[babacontainsmultitudes]

always always thinking about your post that was like “normal has a very high threshold for being loved that is nearly impossible to meet and he will do *anything* to feel validated” and then today in the discord during the part where willy reveals it could’ve been either normal or scary, will said “willy fucked up normal would burn the entire world down for the tiniest crumb of validation” and just. screaming screaming forever about this boy’s inability to ever feel loved enough, he is every webweaving post about always devouring and never feeling full from love, this boy is RAVENOUS and it’s hard to understand how the oak good-boy morality can even supersede that, he has every trait imaginable to become a villain and it feels like the only thing preventing that is the desire to be good, bc tbh I don’t think he wants to be good more than he wants to be loved

SORRY FOR TAKING ALMOST TWO FUCKING WEEKS TO ANSWER THIS ANON!

Eheh, firstly *thank you* because this message is very sweet and made me extremely happy. The post you’re talking about took a good while to write and came with a lot of anxiety so it’s very nice to hear that you’ve kept fragments of it with you, I really do appreciate that!!! 💜

I’d debated for a bit on answering this privately to be honest with you, as not every fire I’ve sparked is one whose flames I wish to fan, so to speak, but everything you wrote is just so on-point and well-articulated that I couldn’t resist. Otherwise. *Ahem*. I know it's very very silly to respond to a response about an essay with what is essentially another essay, but you see, in thinking of how to answer your message, I got a little caught amongst many other things that have been on my mind... And I've seen some takes that have annoyed me for one reason or another and couldn't decide how to address those and. Well. Ultimately I decided that the stuff I wanted to talk about was connected *enough* to the stuff brought up in your message (as well as in my original post) that I could put it all together, soooooooo if you'll entertain me rambling once more~

Let's start by saying that, I recently saw a take going around stating that “Scary’s internal issues caused her external issues while Normal’s external issues caused his internal issues” (among a number of other statements that I frankly found pretty questionable), and I must say, for reasons that I hope to explain, I disagree with this assertion on both accounts!

In Scary’s case, this statement completely erases and undermines the trauma of her dad walking out, and what that does not only to her confidence and sense of self-worth, but to her relationship with her mother as well. And the degree of the impact of this external trauma on her internal view towards and treatment of herself is clear as day just by looking at the stark contrast between Terri and Scary. Scary (Terri) is someone who once had confidence in herself and could find validation and motivation internally, most recently evidenced by Terri's words of encouragement to Scary whilst under beacon of hope:

But then her dad leaves, and things get harder at home, and Scary starts to fight with her mom (her mom who she once called her best friend!!!), and she starts to feel worthless and unlovable- something that only gets worse with time as Willy alienates her from the rest of the group, case in point with this revealing exchange:  

No one’s told her they’re proud of her in a long time (sound familiar??),

her teachers at school shut her down when she tries to speak her mind or otherwise dismiss her behavior as “acting out” seemingly without any sort of intervention or attempt to actually check in with her,

[the above teen fact is from episode 31]

Only then, in response to her diminished sense of self-worth does she begin to cut herself off from the rest of the world and from her former self, most importantly quitting soccer (which we know matters a lot to her!),

and those things leave her even more vulnerable and supportless and ashamed. Not to mention all the mixed emotions she must feel when Terry walks into the picture, between actually liking him but not being able to see his love as genuine due to her relationship with her bio dad and all the frustration and shame she must feel as a result.

This is not to claim that Scary’s internal struggles do not inform a lot of what happens to her and the people around her over the run of the season- of course they do! (In fact some of the later things mentioned above are examples of that- I guess I got a bit carried away). But Scary’s major internal struggles that affect her throughout the course of the adventure are preceded by a slew of important external events that negatively affect her psyche and are in many cases out of her control. Scary’s internal struggles did not originate in a vacuum, and I absolutely would not say that they “caused” the bulk of what she has been through.

Unlike Scary, Norm’s excessive dependency on external validation to feel like he’s worth anything begins when he is very young. [Emphasis on “excessive” here, since obviously everyone requires validation from others to some degree, the point being just that this trait is so very pronounced in Normal and, as I argued a bit in the post anon is referring to, usually the most important factor informing his courses of action, superseding (but not implying the absence of) any desire to be good and help those around him. Will’s statement (the one which anon quotes) seems to corroborate this.] We know that things go so far back from Sparrow’s account in episode 17:

It’s important that this is about Normal’s kindergarten experiences too, because it tells us that Normal’s predominant internal issues go back farther than this and hence were not caused in and of themselves by his peers- instead being perhaps more fundamental to who he is as a person.

This is not to say that external events do not exacerbate the state of Normal’s psyche. In his youth most notably, we can infer that he interpreted Hero’s treatment (which of course he did not understand at the time to be her training) as favoritism, and I think it’s pretty clear by this point that his resentment of her is tied to the degradation of self-esteem that he experienced as a result.

Then of course there is the dance. Sparrow’s words to Normal during the dance obviously consist of a very pivotal moment for Norm within the context of the season, but I think it’s important to remember and not erase the fact that Normal’s internal issues with validation do not begin at the dance, as established in the kindergarten case but also further exemplified by Norm’s primary motive in becoming the school’s mascot in the first place (to get everybody to like him). I think it’s important to remember this in part since it informs so much of Normal’s reaction to what his father has to say, immediately afterwards but also throughout the whole rest of the season. No kid wants to hear that their parent isn’t proud of them, but the severity of the response to this sort of statement is going to vary drastically depending on the person, and in Norm’s case, given his natural disposition, it’s devastating. [and I swear there’s a teen talk moment where Will says basically this but I can’t find it for the life of me rn damn it lol maybe I’ll edit in the clip later if I do]

Of course in this specific case, one can still mostly say that the problem stems from outside of Normal, and that his preexisting issues exacerbate his response but are definitely not the cause of it. Outside of this instance, however, this is not always true! In fact, Normal’s excessive dependency on external validation and related rejection sensitivity (negatively) inform a large amount of his interactions with those around him, particularly Lincoln and Taylor (imagine me underlining “Taylor” several times as I say this). Truthfully that’s a whole ramble on its own, but with respect to more recent events, I have to admit that I was genuinely quite irked to find a lot of people blaming Taylor and Lincoln for Norm’s response to their uh. mech shenanigans in episode 37, choosing to frame this as an act of moral failing or even malice on their part, rather than a reflection of Normal’s own issues and room for growth. Lincoln and Taylor were simply focused on the mission at hand, and there was no good reason realistically speaking to have expected them to be aware of Normal’s emotional state at that point in time (or in general, to be aware of the jealousy their bonding moments evoke within Norm- particularly when Normal consistently fails to communicate and address those emotions with them in a manner that is direct and not passive-aggressive). Lincoln in particular is very clearly stated as not even having fun in that moment, very understandably being focused instead on the fact that his friend Scary is around his father, who he just witnessed, you know, murder someone. This is not an instance of the world going against Norm for no good reason other than to put him through it, this is a very clear example of Normal’s internal issues affecting the way he perceives external events in a manner that is not actually very reflective of the reality of the situation, and which of course feeds in further to his cycle of self-loathing (and I won’t go into it here since I sort of did in the post anon is responding to- but Normal’s negative reaction to Lincoln breaking the pick to gain Scary’s trust is another important example of this [tbh all the more so now coupled with the hypocrisy of how he handles the anchor in Goofs but that’s a tangent]). As aforementioned, Norm also struggles a good chunk of the time to actually explain his feelings in a manner that is direct and does not rely on blaming others for not picking up on his dejection, as exemplified in how this discussion goes with Lincoln in the most recent episode:

The treatment from fandom of this whole instance being reflective of a reoccurring issue I tend to have with a large chunk of the fandom, wherein the collective memory of canon tends towards getting warped to account for Norm’s mental state. Sometimes that’s hailing him as some morally-perfect, emotional reincarnate of Henry (as though the pride layer didn’t happen, as though Goofs didn’t happen, as though all of Norm’s relationship with Taylor isn’t what it is- …I feel like I should stop implying stuff about the significance Taylor and Norm’s relationship and not elaborating but it really is an essay in and of itself LOL), other times it’s just downright turning everyone around Normal into a villain, a persistent phenomenon which I sort of illustrated in the above example but also touched upon in an earlier essay (arguing that despite the fandom’s quick jump to villainize him- Lincoln breaking the guitar pick would prove to be an act of love). Sparrow also takes a good brunt of the damage from this. Sparrow saying he’s not proud of Normal gets turned into Sparrow not loving Normal (despite an abundance of proof in canon to the contrary), his apology for what he said and the support he shows for Norm in light of his alternative plan on dealing with the Doodler are completely ignored by most of the fandom, as are any other demonstrations of emotional availability and shows of growth that he displays throughout the course of the season, and the true motives behind Sparrow’s insistence on Normal living a “normal” life- to protect him from the childhood that he but also that Hero had to undergo- is somehow framed as Sparrow actually holding some kind of favoritism for Hero. It’s as though there is a complete inability on a larger scale within the fandom to see Sparrow as separate character outside of the filter of Norm’s emotions, and the other teens (including Hermie) get a similar if less pronounced treatment.

[Actually, I would argue that to some degree all of the kiddads except Terry (and Lark since he’s not officially a dad) tend to be perceived and criticized predominantly through the noise of their respective child’s emotions/behavior. In Grant’s case, Lincoln 1. spends a good part of the earlier half of the season asserting that his dads are the best dads in the world despite everything going on and 2. has a very unfortunate tendency to compartmentalize and push down his negative emotions as much as possible- in typical Wilson fashion- so the complexity and severity of Lincoln’s issues with his dad generally go understated, and only now that Lincoln has begun to be more vocal and upfront about his issues has some of Grant’s parenting finally begun to come under fire, and even then mostly only his more recent transgressions. In Taylor’s case, Taylor’s emotional security/stability and general fondness for his dad mean that Nicky is being hailed by many people as “the best dad” where in fact Nicky- while certainly helping the teens out in many ways and perhaps even acting as a friend to them- has done just about jack shit for Taylor as a *father*, and really if Taylor has anyone to thank for being as well-adjusted as he is now, it’s definitely his mom! But I digress.]

Normal and Scary are very similar, but the way fandom treats them is very different. People (mostly) seem to be able to acknowledge that Scary, in spite of her mistakes and flaws, is a scared, tired kid with a good heart who is capable and deserving of love. In Normal’s case, I just can’t seem to shake the impression that the fandom (in general) would rather strip Norm of all the things that make his character complex, and nuanced, and flawed, reducing him to an utterly uninteresting husk of a character before depicting him as anything other than a perfect goody-two-shoes who has never hurt anybody in his entire life or daring to acknowledge the fact that “Normal has been through a lot, is hurt, and deserves a good support system and emotional validation” and “Normal can at many times be his own worst enemy, sometimes makes mistakes that affect those around him, and has room to grow emotionally” are notions that can and should coexist. Or at least, that's my two cents on the matter.

[saintsenara]

How has being a doctor influenced your writing or ig your viewpoints/person? Currently I’m a med student - haven’t really come across many doctors who also write ff (perhaps I’m not talking to the right people haha). Can you tell me a little more about what meds like for you?

thank you for the ask, anon - and i hope your training is going well.

i'm not going to talk about my speciality etc., for internet safety reasons, and i've received another ask which i will one day get around to answering on wizarding medicine as a science. but i will talk about how medicine has affected my experience in fandom and influenced my writing.

my writing process looks, i think, fairly ruthless from the outside. i’m not somebody who tends to agonise over things like word choice, i never have anything beta-read or seek advice on plot lines as i’m writing, i don’t need little routines or dedicated time to write [i’m a whenever and wherever girly], i hit publish and move on, and i’m generally good at not getting upset by criticism. and that decisiveness is undoubtedly a skill which has been honed by working in medicine, but, like other aspects of my personality which affect both my writing and my career - e.g. that i’m extremely good under pressure, someone with good intuition, able to hyperfocus, a lateral thinker, possessed of a very strong stomach, someone who doesn’t need to stick rigidly to a routine, and emotionally resilient - i’ve always been like this.

and i’ve also always been someone who has a preference for characters who aren’t the good guys.

my writing tends to favour the flawed, the lonely, the grieving, the furious, the self-destructive, and so on. i find the virtuous quite boring, and i really dislike the puritanical streak which a lot of fandom discourse [and, indeed, all media discourse] has developed in recent years. i think it’s incredibly dangerous that liking particular themes, tropes, or characters in fanfiction has come to be equated with the reader’s real-world views and morals, and i think it’s equally dangerous for us to have any assumption that moral purity is possible from either fictional or real people.

that i think this is partially because i’m not fourteen - i remember well the righteousness of youth, and i’m glad that social media wasn’t anywhere near as pervasive then - and i am sympathetic to the fact that a lot of this purity discourse is just teens trying to self-actualise.

but it’s also because it’s something that's completely impossible to do as a doctor if you’d like to be capable of doing your job properly. you will never have a perfect patient, you will never like a perfect character, you will treat them anyway.

when you’re training, i think it’s easy to end up with the assumption that your difficult patients will either have reasons for their difficulties which are so understandable that you can have compassion for them with ease [e.g. the nice young person being slowly locked-in by als who lashes out in grief and rage at how their life is being cut short] or so cartoonishly malicious that you will enter a state of clinical detachment and treat them with nothing more than cool professionalism [e.g. the elderly racist who refuses to be treated by a black doctor]. and you certainly will have lots of patients who fit these extremes of the spectrum.

but you will mostly have people who are very messy and complicated and human. who will be incredibly unpleasant and yet will also tug at your heartstrings. who will be in pain and will be afraid and will be funny and interesting and grieving and who will also have done things in their lives which are horrifying.

your patients will be cruel. they will be sleazy. they will treat the nurses with contempt [do not be the sort of doctor who does the same]. they will be bigoted. they will be rude. they will be annoying. they will be sly. they will lie to you. they will be malicious. the list is endless.

you will treat them anyway.

your patients will make bad decisions again and again - the sixty-a-day smoker who needs oxygen to breathe is probably still going to light up the second they’re out of the building, the person who barely survived covid because they didn’t get the vaccine is going to continue to refuse to take precautions to protect themselves - and you will be infuriated and you will understand how it’s never as simple as just not making that bad decision.

you will treat them anyway.

your patients will choose to be and to remain ill-informed - they will tell you that vaccines can turn children trans, or that the pharmaceutical industry is suppressing the truth that homoeopathic remedies cure cancer - and you will be infuriated and you will understand how it’s never as simple as just changing your worldview overnight.

you will treat them anyway.

your patients will end up in hospital for reasons which are directly and incontrovertibly their own fault - they will be the eighteen-year-old who thought they’d be fine to drive after a couple of drinks and has now killed their friend and given themselves irreversible brain damage, they will be the drug dealer who got stabbed by a rival in a robbery-gone-wrong - and you will be infuriated and you will understand how it’s never as simple as making a different choice when so much in life is a coin-toss.

you will treat them anyway.

your patients will end up in hospital and also be bad people - they will be the child molestor brought in from prison in cardiac arrest, they will be the parents who went to the bar rather than watch their child in the pool and are now having to be told that all resuscitation attempts have failed - and you will be infuriated and you will understand that even the very worst people in the world can be afraid and in pain.

you will treat them anyway.

you will also learn a very important lesson: it is tremendously easy to kill someone.

you will see one failure to check the mirrors while driving, one punch in a pub brawl, one bump of mdma offered to a friend on a night out, one instance of seeing red, one split-second decision which takes a life. and you will recognise that the killer probably thought of themselves as a good person, but that isn’t how this works.

because, of course, the cold, hard truth is that you probably think of yourself as a good person. but you’re going to kill someone too.

not intentionally - I hope. but you are going to act too slowly to begin treatment, or be convinced that someone’s pain can’t be as bad as they say and triage them wrongly, or assume that a patient with dozens of instances on their records of trying to score opiates by claiming to have abdominal pain is lying again, or think that you know better than the patient and their family, or be misled by the charming demeanour of people who are abusing their children. you are going to make a mistake in surgery, or because the lab was backed up, or because you’re tired, or because a&e is at breaking point. and somebody is going to die because of it.

the only thing you can do to stave off that inevitability for as long as possible is to never believe yourself infallible. don’t think of yourself as flawless, or righteous, or moral, or a brilliant genius who works alone. question your expectations; examine your biases; listen to patients properly; be aware of the realities of medical misogyny, racism, and ableism and never think yourself incapable of them; show your unpleasant patients as much compassion as your nice ones; be good to the nurses - they will save your bacon - and be just as good to the porters and the cleaners and the people who work in the morgue; stay educated; inform yourself about the actual experience of people who have, for example, been sectioned, or otherwise treated without respect by the medical system; leave your own problems at the door when you step onto the ward; don’t keep silent if you think one of your colleagues is dangerous; get a second opinion whenever you need to; accept that failure is inevitable; keep trying; recognise that nothing and nobody is ever simple.

treat them anyway.

so too in your life in fandom. never think that you alone have spotless interests, nor that your favourite characters are flawless. examine why tropes or interpretations of characters which allow them to be imperfect make you uncomfortable; examine your biases - is your slash heteronormative? is your portrayal of a non-white character stereotypical?; be nice to your commenters, and take as much as you can of what they say in good faith; remember that people writing fic are real and have complex motivations and experiences; regard it as your duty to confront portrayals of the violent and the cruel with as much compassion as you can; keep writing; recognise that nothing and nobody is ever simple.

write them anyway.

[helpallthenamesaretakensblog]

As an Elder Fan, it's so awesome to see teens getting into PJO!!! Here are some Qs for you to A:

How did you get into it?

How far through the books are you, or are you just a show watcher?

Fav character and why?

What cabin are you in?

Fav ship (if any) and why?

What weapon would you fight with if you were in PJO?

Ok das all, have a good day 🥰

Hi Gabby 👋 thank you for the wonderful questions 😁 and nice to meet an elder fan too!

When I was 11ish years old and I was getting into books for the first time, my older sister recommended pjo for me since she liked it when she was that age. I was in a real annoying Harry potter phase and I hated greek mythology and expected the books to be some random dude talking to Greek gods and being boring and heroey. I gave it a chance and I got OBSESSED cuz it was anything but boring haha.

I've read the pjo series, all the accompanying short story books and the hoo series. I haven't read toa and tsats but I know the main spoilers so I can navigate the fandom without getting majorly confused . same goes with the other riordanverse series.

ooh this is really basic but percy 🙈 he's the icon legend and moment and I could talk about the complexities of his writing for years and years. unlike most other fantasy middle school American books, he is actually tolerable to read and I find myself rooting for him even when he's in the wrong.

also very basic but percabeth 🥹 I've always been repulsed by romance and "icky icky eww kissing eww" as long as I can remember. But percabeth was the first one where I was like "....maybe I want them to be icky and kiss?" if that makes sense haha. also it ties back into rick Riordan writing which makes you want to root for his characters and want the best for them, and in this case the best for percy and annabeth were each other 🫶

I've done so many quizzes and gotten so many answers i couldnt decide based on my personality, so I decided to go with my interests and that's why I'm a hecate kid!

im not a physically active person haha I CANNOT see myself training for hours a day with a sword or something, so I would just depend on my magic powers hehe

I hope you have a good day too Gabby 🥰